Wine, Roses, and Psychosis
by Crazy Hopeless Romantic
Summary: ( UNDER REVISION! ) ( GRAPHIC ) The most prolific of serial killers, the All-American Ripper, is believed to reside currently in New York. NYPD however requests Spencer Reid specifically after they learn he is similar to the killer in many ways. He doubts himself but he accepts the task to go alone as the BAU takes cases. Can he catch this killer genius or perhaps love them?
1. Chapter 1

_EDITED AND REVISED_

_Welcome to my Reid fanfic, Wine, Roses, and Psychosis. I do hope you realize I intend to be graphic and get worse as the story unfolds. This is a story with murder, rape, bestiality, and is extremely detailed when important scenes are concerned. This is **not **porn without plot, there is a plot. This is guyXguy so if you are homophobic, ( I don't understand this fear actually ) you might want to leave. This does explore a different outtake on love however and also covers possibilities that I don't believe are covered enough in the cases of serial killers. ( Or life in general.) Anywho, enjoy chapter one please._

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**All-American Ripper**

It's a normal Saturday night in the land of the free, the country of equal opportunity, and a place for people to lead the American dream. What is the American dream though? To start with nothing and progress up the social ladder? To leave one's caste and escalate into a higher rank, a life full of fortune and luxury? Or is it simply to possess what the great Declaration of Independence states? The right to life, uncontrolled by another... Liberty, the privilege in having a voice in the ways one is governed by all whom he chooses, and the way he shall be protected by it in return... Or the pursuit of happiness in which there are no immoral restrictions to hinder any one person from lusting after that which gives him emotional, physical, or psychological gratification, a complete absence of barriers preventing the lowly existence of one who is unsatisfied with his or her life?

Immoral restrictions...that's the key phrase isn't it? It is wrong to deprive any of their ambitions isn't it? That is until it impacts others in a way that is deemed by society as negative in effects. And yet, society in itself is but an illusion isn't it? Similar states of morality allow us all to feel some nonexistent sense of unity with those we deem as equal to us in imaginary standards we set for ourselves. We allow ourselves to believe that because we reside in a certain place, because we look a certain way, because we choose either to embrace rationality or primal instinct that we are one. When in reality, isn't it just the opposite? Are we not trying to mirage the fact that we are indeed alone in this life by inventing some illusion of belonging with separate and alien minds and beings? We question our own existence daily in religion and science and yet we never question our purpose.

Alien minds...Isn't that the most precious right any of us possess? A freedom of dwelling within that which we are familiar? The greatest of gifts given to us by no doubt a benevolent Creator? But then, some are not so fortunate as to understand that which they cannot separate from, a foreign relationship with even themselves. At one point this was thought to be the truth of humanity by a mind that had left the conformity of the status quo at an early age, unchanging even as progress molded them physically and emotionally. The mind it seemed, was so easily as stubborn as the ass who would no longer pull it's master's load, that it within itself, seemed an individual entity. Man's greatest stranger and foe is, without question, himself, because it is the one thing he will never completely know...

.

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Families from all over the seemingly prosperous nation tune in at a late hour, one of their luxuries they take for granted on their precious weekends. The news, the ultimate means of keeping people informed of the events thought ought to be made public intelligence, was being cast in New York. Innocent families listened as it was reported with undervalued pleasure that a third month had passed without incident from the most terrifying thing since the fall of the Twin Towers, a serial killer of infamous proportions. The joy was brief, the killer thought to have given up or to have been detained or killed, no further thought given to the subject. Without even a pause to reflect on the gracious announcement, the next most important topic is introduced...

_"And now, George Otto with the weather..."_

The average viewer at home could not hear the shout within the building broadcasting the feed. It started from below as just a warning to some possible saboteur reporter from an enemy network, but the threats continued, fueling more shouts and a greater commotion. Then the first shot rang out. Shouts became screams, cries of utter terror...And just as suddenly as the first rang out, each voice was eventually silenced. The door of the live recording studio being splintered into a dozen pieces got the attention of not only everyone in the room, but in every home in the country. The cries of surprise and instant fear experienced through the screen was enough to make the most hardened of soldiers flinch, and as the two reporters jumped up from their seats, tremble. A moment passed before the screens became static, the faces of the network disappearing in the haze. Apprehension knawed at the consciousness of any and all who watched, worry emanated from those who believed it's validity, and skeptics were soon proved to be dead wrong.

Upon the return of life to the cameras and the footage which they provided the true being behind the disturbance hid, silhouetted just enough, by shadow, and was distinguished by insignificant light in the background. The voice that followed, coming from this now seated figure, was heavily masked by a voice modifier. The greeting though emotionless enough held darkness unparalleled. "This program has been brought to you by blood, it's everywhere." The chilling joke was cleverly horrid. "That however, isn't my message I wish to convey to you. I do request with great urgency that any and all children that may be within your proximity leave immediately, as it is already their bedtime. Such visions are best left to the imaginations of you as parents and fellow adults." His voice echoed slightly and held a dominative tone, convincing viewers to comply without second thought. "Once that's done listen to me very carefully. You see, you all know me. I am disappointed however that you so easily forget me and my message. I am, like you, a human being that dwells within this idealistic country and lives as you do. I buy my groceries as you do, I experience pain as you do, and I luxuriate in the many pleasures that come with being a free American adult. Unlike you however I indulge in the sins of life and do not weep. I lust and act accordingly to my erotic desires. I feel avarice in that I procure things I believe I should have. I am a sloth in that I laze in thought when I hear of humanity's pointless struggles with one another. I am gluttonous in that I prey upon my fellow man as if he were reverted to the form he so desperately attempts to avoid in animosity. I envy you fools! For your ignorance and ability to secure yourself in the emotions of others! To act as yourself and be with one who accepts these faults! I am wrathful because I am disgusted at the filth men can become! I'm pissed! And I have pride, pride that I will get you to hear my cry and listen!" Who could ignore his call now? If it was even a he. "Three years ago I introduced myself in the fair state of Nevada with the death of a young woman named Alice Kirstein, recorded as missing and yet to be found. Her body, or at least what remains of it can be found in the floor that I now gaze upon. I leave it for you as proof that I. Am. Still. Here. I won't give you my name but I believe you know me by another anyway. Dormant for three months as an act of mercy, I am he who haunts your fears. I **am** the All-American Ripper. I tell you this and do what I do tonight to establish a challenge for the best of the best. Police, CSI, FBI, I want you to step up your game. My reign and body count and it's reflection on you as a whole is nothing short of embarrassing. And to those of you watching that are, like myself, interested in the functioning of the mind, I implore you to profile me, decipher me, I dare you and welcome it. Can you catch me? I doubt it but I welcome you play my game. Beware... My IQ is nearly 200, is yours America?"

With these thoughts, these challenges presented in the last moments before black befell the screen and the announcer had fled, America wondered just how safe they really were, and how naïve they had been to think they had been more so. Panic erupted throughout the country and calls came in from all over for them to catch this evil being that threatened lives. New York had been hit especially hard. While it had taken the response team twenty minutes to get out to the news station the perpetrator had left without difficulty, leaving behind an enormous body count and a single calling card. Who was he? Where was he now? What did he wish to portray in this endeavor? So many questions would erupt that could not be answered. Could anyone truly stop the All-American Ripper?

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Raphael was just a simple redhead to the crowd, a handsome one with pale hazel eyes and a badge at that. He was from the United Kingdom originally, a great officer from Scotland Yard at one point. He had rid himself of his accent though through work, always finding an American one to be sexier anyway. He had been asked a few months back to assist in the investigation of the so called Ripper but leads had been as few as the decent people that could be found in New York. "The guy leaves no evidence even though he's erratic as fuck at times, he doesn't have a specific MO or kill signature, he's eluded capture for three years, never stays in the same place very long, and gets laid more than I have in my entire life..." Which was saying something to him because he slept with anything with two legs. Why else was he in the same club he'd been going to for almost a week straight? There were some fine ladies and some able bodied fellas prancing about the place constantly and the drinks were to die for as well. Sadly the ginger had yet to find one he truly wanted for his dark intentions. He was glancing through the crowd with that in mind when he was proven wrong.

His entire being was entirely perfect, from his well sculpted form to his silken hair, to his tall frame and gemstone eyes. "He-llo..." Raphael purred from his seat at the bar, white wine in hand. The male he so desired was taller than even he at his height of 6 feet and wore tight fitting jeans with slices throughout them, giving tempting glimpses of bare skin of thickly muscled legs. His shirt was a tank that clung to his sturdy torso like a second skin and made the red head's mouth water. He wore heavy boots and he hid his eyes behind his hair. He just couldn't miss an opportunity such as this, not with such a perfect specimen before him. He turned to the barmaid quickly. "Hey, who's that guy?" he demands in an urgent tone. The young brunette blushes at his question, seeing just who he was referring to.

"He's an employee here," she states. "The main attraction and prime entertainment."

"Oh? How come I haven't seen him all week?"

"He's been on vacation. He hadn't taken a day off in a while." The redhead could tell the girl had the hots for him just as he did and probably had for a while.

"Can you give me his name?"

She shakes her head. "Club policy. We can only be called by our club names here. I'm Robin by the way. He's...**Crow**." She purred the name like it was some sweet elixir that filled her with awe.

"Crow..." He would have this man if it was the last thing either of them did. He stood, discarded his drink and with swag to his step, approached the man. He didn't need to make his presence known, the male saw him coming and cast his eyes downward, pink dusting his cheeks and making Raphael smile. 'Looks like I've got a shy one. I bet he's a beast in bed though...' He had to give some people warning glares as he approached, but the blonde didn't seem to notice. "You look lonely," he coos, gesturing at the male's obvious solitude among the crowd. He receives a shrug, the man rubbing his arm in response.

"Not something I'm unfamiliar with." God even his voice was perfect! Not even Adonis himself could compare to this man's beauty.

"You say that as if you're used to it...Crow, right?" He nods, his cheeks red. Raphael flashes an electric smile, knowing he wasn't as good looking as this man but believing he had the confidence to make up for it. "I find it hard to believe that a catch such as yourself has trouble finding company in a place like this. Such a man of your caliber must have men and women lined up for miles to gaze at that gorgeous face." The other bit his lip, turning slightly away in shyness but flattery. He grinned back at the red head and he knew that he'd been successful in catching his prey.

"You couldn't possibly mean that," he insists. "A man like **you** could surely find better company than me." He shakes his head.

"Trust me when I say that you are the hottest thing I have ever seen," he coos. He wanted him badly and the alcohol wasn't helping, everything was a red haze at this point as he closed the distance between them and gave a gentle rub against the male's thigh. "I could tell you all about how perfect you are in a more comfortable setting if you want." Crow didn't seem to mind at all, in fact he returned the gesture in kind, sparking a moan from Raphael and making their proximity increase. He looked up from the ground with lustrous bedroom eyes at the shorter male.

"Could you really?" he murmurs. "I could get us the perfect spot..." Raphael was more than eager to please the male that had him turned on and nodded, his lips moving to the man's neck and teasing lightly. He had to stand on his toes slightly but he made it a priority to get to the foreplay as soon as possible, nipping at the man's soft skin and grinding into his crotch as they fumbled their way through the crowd.

Between being drunk and getting lost in the foreplay Raphael didn't know where they had ended up, all he knew was there was a bed and he noticed handcuffs at both ends.. He had tossed away his clothes in a hurry as he then did with his partner. He stripped him down to his naked glory and made sure to put his lips over every part of his body. The area between his legs had been most fun since he discovered that his perfect Crow was even more gifted than he in size. "You're nice and thick aren't you? Perfect length too..." he coos. This made Crow flustered as his breath danced over his extremities. He hadn't much time to say anything since it was soon devoured by an eager mouth and he was left to moan and pant in hushed, angelic breaths.

Raphael couldn't remember the last time he'd entered a man so tight and he almost lost himself in the sheer pleasure of just pushing in for the first time. It didn't take much at all to tire him out and he found himself collapsing after only a few minutes. It was the blonde's turn to 'blow' his mind, he only needed proper encouragement. "What do you want to do to me babe?" he simpered. "Do you want to pound into me as much as I did you?" He wanted to instigate an alpha male reaction from his new favorite, see him indulge in his dark fantasies...

Oh did he comply. The blonde's eyes turned predatorial as he sank down to Raphael's hips, his talented tongue darting out and making a dessert of the man's length, suckling and swirling around his head and sheathing to the base. Now Raphael moaned and writhed with sheer pleasure as he had his wish granted. He knew that the male was shy from the start, but he also knew on instinct that he was a dominant, a seme, an alpha when it came to sex. He climaxed blissfully into his mouth, his semen trickling from those perfect lips. After a moment of lubricating, Crow tended to his own erection and thrust into the smaller man beneath him, earning a sensual groan. He also admitted that Raphael was his best in a while, his above average length needing a smaller cavern to tend to it usually.

Raphael wasn't sure when the handcuffs clasped around his wrists but he didn't care, he was being filled and the last cry of his partner as he orgasmed was his last thought before Crow gave him a taunting smirk from above...

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_I warned against graphic content! I got to rant a little in this thankfully and I love that this is going to be one hell of a fanfic since I've always wanted to do this. Please let me hear any comments or questions you may have. I love reviews and chatting :) Until next time!_


	2. Chapter 2

_EDITED AND REVISED_

_I'm back! I chose to make this particular story a priority one since my audience for my other fics is limited but I **do **have other stories so please forgive me if I take a while._

_TazzieLuv13: Much thanks to you for being the first to review :) Your enthusiasm absolutely touched me since you were so quick to share your thoughts even in so few a words. I hope I keep up the good work for you._

_Also just a random fact to share...Did you guys know that Mathew Gubler, our beloved Spencer Reid, was actually playing as bisexual throughout the beginning of season one? Up until it was hinted that he had a small crush on JJ, a.k.a. A.J. Cook, he was actually supposed to like both genders, but producers thought he would be more believable as straight since his character was already far fetched. So in other words, my representation is more accurate than the actual current one! Woot! Anyway, now that my fangirl moment is over, I present to you chapter two of Wine, Roses, and Psychosis. Enjoy!_

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**Special Request**

It was 8AM the follwing morning, a Sunday unparralled in Quantico, Virginia. The FBI had gotten call after call after the broadcast the previous morning, frantic peoples whose lives had been turned upside-down in their states of fear and disphoria. The nation had yet to see such a threat as to the extent of the Ripper before, one of such prowess... In other words, the BAU was in for the profile of their lives.

.

"Red, blue, green, red, blue, green..." Spencer had just finished arranging his case files in a nice chromial pattern in his filing cabinet, a random habit he had started recently. As per usual since before his...tragic encounter with his first love in months during the previous year, Spencer had gotten back into the rhythm of arriving at the BAU three hours before his designated time. His migraines were fewer but still present in his everday life, something he was begining to cope with as best he could.

His emotions were still being sealed within him, save for the few instances when his feellings became too much to handle and he vented to Rossi or Morgan. Even then however, Reid still never said everything that was on his mind. He had secrets that he'd never shared with the people he considered to be his family. For example he'd never once admitted that he'd found Derek attractive when they met, nor that he was even interested in men at all. The truth was, however, that he'd been bisexual most of his life and just happened to have a personal preference towards women. Then, that turned out so well for him in the end...

No matter how he pondered it he couldn't bring himself to even understand why he thought he had to keep certain secrets from his team. They had always been there for him, always supported him and had his back, there was no reason to doubt them, but in the end he always found it was better they not know everything about him.

He sighs, it was so frustrating. He didn't even have the luxury of having Maeve to call him anymore... He rearranged his office five or six times this morning already, and he was doing it again with the movement of his books on the shelf. He readjusted his plum tie against his violet shirt many a times over, smoothing over his sweater-vest as if someone was watching him. He hadn't felt very comfortable since the return from their last case the previous night. They hadn't gotten home until late in the night. He was on edge for some unknown reason though, he just couldn't figure out why...

"Reid?"

"Yeah?" He turned to the bearded Italian that had stepped into his doorway.

"Meeting in the briefing room, now." It seemed urgent.

"What's up?" Was he just anxious because he knew they were getting a new case?

"Something you're gonna wanna hear." That was all he said. Reid didn't argue either. He grabbed his file Rossi had brought him and some note paper for any thoughts he might have during the briefing and followed the older male without question. He also spotted Penelope and Morgan heading in as well. He greeted them both with good morning and the gesture was returned.

"Good morning my lovely genius!" Somewhat...

Spencer always thought Garcia was a bit too enthusiastic sometimes, he supposed she wasn't aware of just how severe the case was as of yet though. He wouldn't spoil it early for her.

"Mornin' Kid." Kid, Spencer had always been hesitant about accepting to be called that, he was thirty years old for crying out loud. Sure he was the youngest on the team and in most of the BAU but he was still an adult. He knew the nickname was in all good fun but sometimes it still bugged him. He guessed it just came with having a brotherly figure, being an only child.

Once everyone was seated they each began looking to the screen, at the same time that Hotch pulled up a newspaper clipping that was headlined from Las Vegas three years prior. '**Missing Girl Still Yet to be Found**'. The name read Alice Kirstein, she was exceedingly pretty, brunette with algae green eyes. She was also from Las Vegas which got Spencer's attention.

"Alice Kirstein went missing three years ago in downtown Las Vegas after partying with some friends, she left seperately and never returned home. Her family believed she was abducted since it was so unlike her to run off without telling someone."

"So Las Vegas police are calling us in to find one girl?" Morgan asks disbelievingly.

"That's the thing, she was found last night." Hotch hits a button on his remote, pulling up another tab, a video. "This was broadcasted last night nationally over the New York network." He hit play.

'_A news report?_' Spencer thought? The first few minutes semmed like any ordinary airing, local crime, some stock updates, and a statement on the dormancy of the All-American Ripper... '_Why am I getting that strange feeling again?_' The mere mention of the Ripper had his gut crazy with butterflies, something wasn't right about this...

"**And now, George Otto with the weather...**" That was when they heard it, the screams that only got louder and loouder in the background, the sudden shattering of wood as the door was torn open, the franic looks upon the faces of the newscasters as they scrambled from their seats... Poor Penelope was shivering in her seat, the screen temporarily going to static for a few short moments.

When the picture returned, Spencer found himself unable to look away. The sillouhetted form that grabbed his attention from center screen practically demanded he listen up. Though no defining features could be made out, the entire posture radiated dominance and control. His voice, shielded by so many lace-overs of different voice modifiers, still seemed to grip him thorugh their disguise. His initial idea of a joke, '_This program is brought to you by blood, it's everywhere_', was enough to get Garcia to refrain from watching from that point after. Though gruesome, he had to admit the line was clever, the unsub was definitely one for theatrics. He spoke at first with a calm demeanor and used articulate speech, something he found himself admiring, but then he surprised his audience by refering to his normal, everyday life, his individuality in what sins he reveled in. That was when he noticed a change in him, his speech became less professional and his tone became harsh and angry, something that for a split second had even Morgan trembling in his seat. What shocked Spencer the most though? The fact that what he was saying actually made sense. He could sense the urgency in his tone when he spoke of how he tuned out the great gossip in popculture and meaningless prattle of war that was so unecessary. How man had abandoned their instinctual needs for a world of refinement and dignity, and Spencer was a gentle being who believed in being civilized, but he could understand how one would severely desire for the world to recognize that we were not meant to be perfect. One part really stuck with him though, the unsub's envy. The envy of seeing others so effortlessly go through life with a significant other that accepted all these faults in them, or so he assumed from the context and emotion. He too could relate to this. He thought he had found that significant other in Maeve, only to have her ripped from his grasp before he even got to touch her. This person wasn't just angry, they were in pain...

He knew he must be crazy for even sympathizing with an unsub like this, especially considering that they were most likely dealing with the most capable serial killer in all of history. He couldn't help it though, he felt as if maybe this person just needed someone to talk with, and if they had found that person earlier, if that might not have prevented all of this...

The video ended and for a moment, no one had anything to say. After that moment passed however, Morgan was the one to speak. "Alice Kirstein, her body was really found at the scene then?"

A nod from Hotch. "DNA results confirm that Kirstein's body was indeed left in the floor of the newsroom." He then pulled up the part Garcia refused to turn around for, the scene photos. "This, was her..." The picture was of a corpse naturally, but of one that was unlike a corpse in any way they'd ever seen. Young Alice's face was as rosy as the softest of tulips, as if she were merely sleeping, there wasn't a mark upon her skin, her clothes, modest and attractive on her young form. Morgan managed to coax Garcia into looking just once, and upon doing so was shocked at the condition of the body, paying no attention to the blood on the floor around her.

"She doesn't look like she's been dead for more than a few minutes," Prentiss notes in shock.

"Do we know time of death?" Morgan asks.

"Autopsy reports came back with traces of embalming fluid and cells showed signs of little to no degeneration, meaning that-"

"She was frozen and preserved for three years," Spencer finishes.

"But why would he keep her looking so pretty if he killed her three years ago?" Penelope wonders innocently.

"She could've been someone he knew, someone he cared for and couldn't let go?"

"I don't think it's that simple," Reid disagrees. "Most attempts at embalming a body end in some sort of degeneration after certain periods of time, especially when combined with cryogenics. Someone who was simply desperate to preserve a lost loved one wouldn't have been so capable. Plus, he gave her up in the end so that says he was never really emotionally attached to her." All nodded in agreeance as per usual. Rarely did anyone question his reasoning or knowledge on a subject.

"Semen was also found inside of her..." Hotch almost whispered it.

"He, raped her after he killed her?" Garcia chokes.

"Results shows they were intimate before her death and not a single time after. The samples were too polluted to match to DNA once again. He seems to make that priority before anything else with all of his victims."

"He can't go without being intimate with them, it's the one thing in his signature that seems to stay consistant with the victims he planned beforehand," Reid speculates.

"Maybe he wanted to remember his first kill then? She was a trophy of his first accomplishment." Rossi was closer to the point Spencer thought.

"For a first kill it was impressively done." Penelope nodded at Prentiss.

"This **is** the All-American Ripper..."

"Are we so sure? He's been known to have copycats. Let's not forget he always has a close second follow him wherever he strikes, the two of them together probably have a body count up in the thousands." On that Reid had to agree, the Ripper and his disciple had the highest body counts that he could think of in the field of serial killers, even more than "The Beast" of Columbia in South America. But...

"I'm almost certain that this is the real Ripper." Rossi seemed surprised and inquired as to why. "The copycat never makes a move that doesn't somehow follow in the Ripper's footsteps, he wouldn't do something so drastic without some sort of permission from his idol."

"How do you know they aren't working together?"

"While it's possible, the Ripper simply has too much pride to let himself be upstaged like that by an underling. He did this because he wants a challenge, someone who can stand toe to toe with his genius and be a worthy opponent. It's like a chess game to him and he wants an interesting battle. He wants to be caught...it's like, he's tired of being above everyone else..." Was he speaking for the killer or for himself? Yes, he sometimes wished he wasn't smart like everyone saw him, sometimes he just wanted to be normal, but that could never happen...

"I have to agree with Reid on this one, the Ripper's specific calling card was found on the door of the front entrance when NYPD arrived at the scene." He pulled up the picture of the bloodied glass door, small red card with A.A.R. enscribed beautifully in black ink in the center. Thorns decorating the edges. That was his calling 'card' alright. "The calling card didn't resemble the copycats in that none of the bodies had been stuffed with flower petals and the organs were not removed beforehand."

"We can't simly judge that by whether or not the organs are intact though, sometimes he takes them and other times he leaves them. Sometimes he stabs them, sometimes he shoots them, sometimes he strangles them. He targets men, women, black, white, straight, gay...this guy doesn't have a specific signature. He never leaves finger prints even where there should be some, he never leaves hair or fibers, he never leaves the slightest clue other than a card we cant trace. It's impossible to profile a ghost Hotch." Morgan had a point. Even with the video Derek didn't think he had revealed enough about himself to form an accurate profile. Spencer had a different approach though, he knew more than the others did just by what he heard.

"Before I continue there is something else you should know," Hotch continues. Of course they all look to him expectantly. "NYPD is certain that the Ripper is still in the state and I don't disagree with them. Because they were the ones to ask for help we go by their terms and they have one. And that is that we send one specific member of our team."

"Hotch are you sure that's a good idea? If one of us goes we should all go. This case is gonna take all of us," Derek argues.

"Yes, it will take all of us, but we'll be helping from home while we take on other cases. This case could take months to work and with the Ripper's skills maybe years. The BAU can't afford to focus on one serial killer and ignore all others for that long. That's why Reid will be the only one going to New York." That fact hit Spencer in the gut like a rock. Him? Alone? In New York working a case he probably wasn't even fit to work?

"H-Hotch, I-I don't think I-"

"NYPD requested you specifically Spencer."

"I-I get that b-but why?!" Surely with his record in the last year they didn't want him for his capabilities?

"Taking into consideration how long the Ripper's been at large and that he has no reason to lie about his I.Q of nearly 200 they think that you're best suited for the job. In short Spencer you have some things in common with this unsub that the rest of us can only guess at. You can play at his level."

Spencer anxiously runs a hand over his face, suddenly very sweaty. "I just don't think I'm the right person for this, I mean with my past and with the past few months and the fact that I'm not a people person and-"

"Whoa Pretty Boy, slow down, breathe." He hadn't even realized he had been speaking without breathing. He inhales sharply, making up for the air he lost while trying to convince his boss to send Morgan or Prentiss, people who were better at dealing with people and investing, not just geographical profiling and spouting random facts at any given time.

"It's decided Reid, you'll be going to New York and working with the police department on this case until the Ripper seems to have moved on elsewhere. We'll be going up with you today to exchange information with the authorities and head back in the morning to work other cases. There's nothing to be worried about."

"You'll do fine Spence," J.J. tries.

"Definitely, if the super genius can't catch this guy then no one can," Prentiss adds. That gave him a boost, but it was one he didn't believe he deserved. Nevertheless, he couldn't very much deny it now, he'd already been half convinced.

With a nervous swallow he nods, clutching his pencil rather harshly in his anxiety.

.

.

"I can't believe they requested you specifically for the job!" Garcia was expressing her excitement for the gazillionth time that morning as she and Spencer went over the plan for communication within the next few weeks in case he needed her for any on-case information. Spencer had been trying to create mental profiles in his head but was so distracted by Garcia and his assignment that he was having trouble. Currently Garcia was looking through hotels in the area of where the police station was up in New York so that she could book them, of course being who she was she had to do thorough background checks on everyone who worked in each one. "And you know the drill, if you need anything, anything at all, just call and I will work my magic and show you the wonders of the otherworld my darling- DEAR LORD! Fifty-five years-old and married nine times? Oh great, only hires women too. No thank you, that is not nearly appropriate for my Avengers.."

Spencer was only half listening to her at the moment, how would he get by on his own? He didn't know anyone in New York! He didn't even know the general scope of the streets to find his way around. He could take the subways sure, it wasn't that far off from the metro but they only went to the bigger cities, they'd be stationed on the far end of Brooklyn and that was a considerable distance of walking just to get back to the hotel. Hotel. Crap, he'd have to find another apartment if it took too long while he was there...

"Damn it!"

Penelope immediately stopped what she was doing and looked back at the pacing brunette with wide eyes, surprised as one of his almost nonexistant curses escaped his lips. "Are you okay sweety?" she questions in her usual caring tone, desperate to find out what was bothering him.

"Honestly? I'm scared out of my freaking mind to be dropped in the middle of New York for a few months with no one and nothing familliar around me looking for the scariest human being on the planet who I may or may not be like in multiple ways! Have I left anything out?" Frankly Garcia could understand why he was nervous, he was going to be living in a foreign state with a killer potentially trying to sink a knife into his neck.

"You'll be alright, we're going up with you to help get you settled. Besides you can call whenever and we'll help in absolutely any way we can. Pinky promise!" Spencer trusted Garcia of course and she had such a calming and positive aura about her that he couldn't help but be reassured no matter how he thought he would truly fare. "You wanna look through these crummy men's lives with me?" she tempts with her bright smile. He couldn't resist, he pulled up a chair beside her.

"Let's see, eighty year-old widower, no kids, whoa...extensive police reocrd. Very naughty old man." He gave her a heartfelt laugh, somhow managing to make a grumpy old man seem like a pervert. She was just flipping through pictures of hotel owners now, stopping to make fun of their looks. "Hel-lo! Smoking hottie at twelve o'clock!" Spencer shouldn't have, but he dared to look. No name was shown because it hadn't been a requirment when Garcia was searching them, but the age and background information was there.

He was starstruck at the man pictured, he had an angular face and high cheekbones with a full face, golden blonde hair that fell to his neck styled so that it swept over his eyes. And god his eyes, they were a rare emerald green color, which includes only about less than half a percent of the entire human population by the way, that sharply contrasted with the rest of his face and his tanned skin. He felt as if these eyes alone could peer into his very soul and hold him captive for eternity. He was twenty-eight according to the file and had quite the interesting past as far as major occupations were concerned, however he only saw three major listings: current inn owner, past veterinarian and amateur model. Before he could see more Garcia had opened links to other pages, pulling up more pictures of the man, nice pictures, modeling pictures from some nice lesser known labels. "This is one good looking inn keeper my pretty!" Garcia beams. He was shirtless in most photos, modeling the pants and boots rather than shirts. He was cut, like, ripped in the not-too-beefy-attractive kind of way, having a chest and abs that complimented his face well. With an unintentional blush, Spencer found his eyes wandering over that chiseled body, stopping at the 'V' that adorned his lower abdomen and marked the trail to lower extremities...One might think upon first glance that he was a barbarian, but he also took photos with a shirt on, dress shirts, partially unbuttoned of course to have that advertising allure. "Reid?" He'd gone scary silent so Garcia spared him a glance, to see him completely flustered. "Reid are you...?" She stopped upon noticing that his pants had become just a bit tighter on him... "Oh my..." she gave him a shocked and pitying gaze as he noticed his fault and tried to shield himself across the room. He'd slipped up...she knew...

"Does anyone else-"

"No."

"How long-"

"Just after high school...so about 14..."

Silence befell them as they packed up and joined the others on the jet. "I won't tell anyone, pinky promise."

"...Thank you..."

And that was the moment when Penelope Garcia became Spencer Reid's closest friend, the first to find out his long kept secret, and the one who would be his ally in the months to come...

* * *

_So many dots, GAH! But then it makes for great pauses in thought doesn't it? Makes you think, visualize. Anywho, I sincerely hope you enjoyed, for my next chapter will contain a hint of true crime and a hopeless adoration...hopefully... Please review, all questions shall be answered to the best of my ability and all comments replied to. :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_EDITED AND REVISED_

_Hello again! So glad to be back, it's been a long week of finals but it's over and Christmas is nearly here...WOOT WOOT! Cookies bitches! Anywho, just finished reading an Avengers fanfic in progress and I'm hooked! I love Bruce Banner and definitely Mark Ruffalo! So hawt! Just like Tom Hiddleston! Anyway I definitely recommend starseer7296 's fic 'Beauty is a Beast' for any Hulk fan._

_TazzieLuv13: I thank you for your continued support. :)_

_Kei-Kat: Thank you! I'm glad you like it :) _

_Here's chapter three guys!_

* * *

**When In Rome**

The flight to New York was dreadfully long and quiet, Reid felt it had something to do with the fact that Penelope was in on his secret now, the one he'd hoped he'd never have to reveal. All of that, over some attractive man he saw online!

...

He never thought he'd scold himself for having such a teen-ish problem, you know, admiring someone from the internet... But then it would be hard not to, he was a former male model after all, though an amateur, it was kind of natural that he'd be attractive. He was so ashamed at the fact that he was even still thinking on the subject! He was so distracted these days, there was no way he was solving this on his own. This would be hell, his own personal hell...

"Reid, we're here." He looked up upon hearing Morgan speak, his dark brown eyes heavy with exhaustion. Come to think of it, none of them had gotten much sleep since they had gotten back to Quantico so late last night, added to the fact that they were called in early for all of this... Luckily Garcia had found a hotel to her satisfaction and they could go there as soon as their meeting with NYPD was over. He definitely needed coffee until then though, what he wouldn't do for a double espresso...

The others hadn't brought much but Reid had made it a point to bring as much of his things as possible, the travel sized valuables of course. He ended up with three suitcases in the end though and thankfully Derek was more than willing to help carry them. JJ called a cab and put their stuff in the trunk, since she was only a liaison she was heading straight to the hotel to put things away, mostly for the benefit of Spencer. "See you guys later."

"Why don't you be looking for a nice pace to get drinks, I sure as hell could use one," Rossi says with a grin.

"Heh, I'll do that. You just do your jobs alright?" The blonde left them then, the rest of them getting rides with the policemen that had come to meet them at the airport. Spencer took the opportunity to take a nap on the drive there, traffic was ridiculous! It must have taken them forty-five minutes to get to the station. The officer that drove him and Prentiss had introduced himself as Deputy Colson, but to call him James for the duration of their stay.

"I'm not big on titles until it comes to addressing my superiors," he'd said. '_The_ _accent_ _will_ _take_ _getting used to, considering everyone here_ _will have one to some extent_...' Spencer could appreciate that, all in all, the brunette was a good man. He seemed kind and relaxed, but even he showed stress over the case the FBI had been brought in for. "Do you guys think you can really bring this freak in?"

"If anyone is perfect for the job then Doctor Reid is it," Emily assured.

"Doctor? I thought you were FBI."

"I am." There it is... "I simply have Ph.D's in addition." Everyone always asked the same questions, he was waiting for the moment when he slipped up and the next one came.

"So Doctor Reid, you been up here in New York before?"

"Just, call me Spencer. Titles and all." His attempt at a joke had gotten a smile from the man, that was a step forward. "And I have, on other cases. I can't say I've been to Brooklyn particularly though."

"Well, let me be the first to say that you're gonna like it here once you get used to it." Emily gave him a reassuring nod as they entered the station, patting him on the back as they all met with the police chief. The man was older, perhaps Rossi's age, balding and clad in many worry lines. Obviously the stress the man went through was aging him more than it should. The previous night's broadcast probably didn't help either.

"Chief Warren, I'm in charge of this boot camp. I see you've met Deputy Colsen and officers Kingsley and O'Brian." He gestured at Colsen and the two other officers who Reid was shown respectively by name. Kingsley being a sandy haired brute and O'Brian having more of a traditional Irish air to him what with the orange-ish curling locks, beard, and pale complexion. From there Hotch introduced them one by one, pointing to them respectively as he did so.

"I'm Special Agent Hotchner. These are agents, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, and Penelope Garcia. Agent Jareau is setting us up at the hotel for now." Of course he'd been left for last... "And as requested this is Doctor Spencer Reid." The chief took his time analyzing Spencer while extending a hand in greeting.

"It's nice to finally meet you Doctor Reid, we've heard a lot about you since last night." Spencer was hesitant to return the gesture of welcome, as always he scorned himself for being so reclusive, even with a simple handshake with someone new. He pushed himself as always though, humoring everyone yet again by ignoring his tics.

"Not too much I hope," he tried in dry humor.

"Hey, so are ya really a super mega genius like they say? I.Q. of like, two hundred or somethin'?"

O'Brian's question was what he had been fearing but had no control to stop.

"Uh super mega, no. I can however read 20,000 words per minute, I have a Bachelors in Sociology and Psychology, Ph.D's in Chemistry, Mathematics, and Engineering. I have an eidetic memory and my I.Q. is actually one hundred and eighty-seven, not two hundred." The four men were giving him a very familiar stare he had learned to recognize over the years. "I also graduated high school at twelve years old." Still nothing. "Yes I'm a genius." At that they seemed to finally get it and gave nods of realization. Same old same old of course, too smart for everyone around, too dumb to know when to stop...He could just see Deputy Colsen's opinion of him lowering by the second. It would be a long...however many months he'd be there...

"Hey, didn't that guy from the bar have some kind of special memory? Not photographic..."

"It wa'n't that ei- whatever, was it?"

"Nah it was something with a D... Decorative... Directorive...?" The two officers were obviously trying hard to remember the condition, perhaps attempting to make him feel less out of place.

"Declarative?" he offers.

"That's it!" Kingsley says with a hit to his palm.

"Declarative memory?" Morgan inquires. Shit.

"Declarative memory refers to memories that can be consciously recalled at any given time. While declarative memory is similar to explicit memory, declarative memory can be stated in words, while explicit memory is the deliberate recall of information that can be recognized as a memory. It can be divided into two categories: episodic memory, which stores specific personal experiences, and semantic memory, which stores factual information. Episodic memory is where it also begins to differ from eidetic memory." Yep, definitely shit.

His team seemed to be enlightened, then again they dealt with him for years. The NYPD however once again looked lost and confused. "He always like this?" Warren asks Hotch.

"You get used to it. Think of it as having a walking encyclopedia." Why did that not settle him? It made him sound like such a freak.

"Sir!" Another officer came rushing up to the group, obviously flustered. "Sir, Detective Blakely has just been reported missing."

"What?! Explain yourself!" The BAU agents all shared identical glances.

"Who's Detective Blakely?" Rossi asks.

With a glance the new officer held out a file for the man to read. "Detective Blakely was our previous hope at catching the Ripper, Agent. He transfered here on a work visa from the UK. He'd been in Scotland Yard until recent years but he was eager to help with the case when we asked for help."

"Can I see that Rossi?" Reid asks. He gave a nod, handing it over while secretly being grateful that Spencer was getting into the investigation.

The male was attractive with fiery red hair and a soft complexion with murky algae eyes. He looked to be in his mid thirties. "Raphael Blakely..." He had a history of alcohol problems, a lover of brandy apparently. "And he was reported missing this morning?"

"Yes, I just got the fax a few minutes ago."

"And what tipped you off that he was missing?"

"Well he called in with a report last Tuesday but he didn't check in over the weekend like he was supposed to. Plus I even called his landlady to ask where he was but she said he hadn't been home in a few days. She figured he'd just gotten drunk and was crashing somewhere else until he was ready to go home." Silence. Reid had a theory, but it couldn't be proven.

"Whatcha thinking Pretty Boy?"

"The Ripper challenged law enforcement in his message last night, on the off chance he ran into Blakely after he ran off, he could've seen him as too close in the investigation and decided to get rid of one while he had the chance."

"No way, Raphael hadn't found piss in the past few months, always whining about it too, saying the damn Ripper got more ass than he did his entire life." _'He would actually joke about something like that_?' That sounded awful in Spencer's eyes. It did make more sense though.

"That could've been the problem, he had information he didn't know was valuable. The Ripper wants to be caught but by someone who's his equal in intellect, he wouldn't want his agenda ruined by someone who would just stumble upon him. That, or it was someone else."

"The Ripper Replicator?" Prentiss asks.

"Exactly, a lackey just watching out for his idol's safety." Unfortunately he wouldn't know which until a body turned up... That was the part of the job that would never get any easier, needing another victim to catch who they were after.

God did he need caffeine...

"Alright," Warren starts, "Kingsley, you go out with Colson and check on all of Blakely's usual checkpoints and talk with his neighbors. I want at least a clue that he's just being a stubborn ass and ran off with some drunken prostitute. At this point I'd prefer it to the alternative."

"Yes sir." With that the two headed out. Hotch took the chance to get deeper in this.

"Did Detective Blakely have a habit of wondering off with strange women?"

"Pfft!" He responded with a disgust that had Spencer shuddering. "Women, men, anything with a pulse he'd run after. 'Specially if it was as horny as him."

Reid understood the disgust then. Raphael had been bisexual and apparently quite the player with both genders in his spare time. His interest in men and women seemed to make things rifty between he and the chief, since the older man obviously didn't approve of the idea. He had to say that despite his previous thoughts about the missing man, Spencer found a bit of respect for the man who openly said who he liked without fear of repercussions and his seemingly care-free attitude. These were things he could never be. Even as he pondered this, Penelope gave him a sympathetic gaze from the other side of Morgan. He had to keep his head straight though.

"It's possible that if the unsub is considered overly attractive he lured Blakely into a sense of intimacy..."

"Or offered it," Prentiss added.

"So you're saying this guy just straight up seduced Raf into following him to his death?" O'Brian acted as if it was far fetched.

"It would explain how he gets victims so easily." Hotch confirms. "Good looks added to simple charm would definitely reel in victims. It may not even be the looks, he could just be very charismatic and charming. That would make up for his victims that were straight or lesbian."

"I thought he raped all his victims? Why go after straight men or lesbians if you have your pick of the thousands who are straight women, gay men, or just straight up bisexual?"

"He craves dominance. It's not about the sex itself, it's boosting his ego, getting off on the power. He's a control freak, he proved that last night." Rossi spouted the usual verdict of sexual sadists.

Warren gave a sigh and ran a hand over his face, frustration rolling off of him like smoke. '_That'll be me in a few weeks_..'

"You guys had a long flight, why don't ya go and get yourselves a drink? We'll pass on what we know to the rest of the squad and start rounding up the crime scene photos from the newstation to hand to ya in the morning."

"You don't need us for anything else?"

"Not now, I want confirmation that we've lost Blakely before anything else." With a nod to Garcia Hotch agreed.

"Give them the computer for direct calls to your office at the BAU and meet us outside."

.

.

.

"Um, JJ, this is the place you found for drinks?" Morgan and Prentiss were sharing similar looks of disbelief as they gazed up at the building. It was two stories, but the top floor held no signs of life, then again the windows were covered with black paper. It wasn't ugly per se, it was solid and looked well kept from the outside, but the sign that adorned the top of the doorway left them a bit weary. It was red neon, blocked all capital letters. Together read, they said '_Deadman Wonderland_'. Now Spencer knew not to judge a book by it's cover, and he'd been to some places that looked worse in his field and this one seemed fairly safe. He could hear the music from outside but it sounded like regular club music to him, there was a single bouncer but he didn't seem to be there to keep people out, more like to greet them with a smile from what he could see of the grinning man. Security that seemed decent at least.

"The guy at the hotel said it was the go-to place for all tourists if they could visit one spot while in Brooklyn. I asked if it was at all shady because we were all law enforcement and he said it had the cleanest record he knew of for a club."

"We're proud of it too!" The bouncer had finally decided to speak up and try to comfort them inside. "Safest, most fun, and the best entertainment." As he said this he gestured to a poster behind him , taped to the door. On it was a reddend sky background, an emerald eyed raven of some sort raising it's talons to the onlookers, poised as if capturing prey. Below it read '_Best music in New York, courtesy of the caw of The Crow'._

"What's the Crow?" Rossi asks. At this the bouncer chuckles, ushering them forward as if telling them a classified secret.

"The Crow is a he. See here at Deadman Wonderland we don't use our names during business hours, we're required to go my our cage names."

"Cage names?"

"Precisely Blondie. This place is themed from a show that is centered around naming it's characters after birds. All the employees personify a certain bird, including myself. Name's Woodpecker. Ironic I know." Yeah, considering he looked like he bench pressed cows in his spare time...

"So this Crow, he's the musician here?" Morgan asks.

"Well he goes by Crow on his good days, sometimes we call him Mockingbird. And he's not just the musician, he plays guitar, piano, DJ's, and above all he has the voice of an angel. Draws people in like a true siren. Actually he was on a vacation for a while and came back a couple nights ago. He does private performances upstairs on occassion." They gave him a look, to which he laughed again. "Everything here is legal, Scout's Honor!" He seemed chipper enough and they were actually intrigued enough to go in now, they needed a little bit of a push though.

"This sounds absolutely fantabulous. We. Have. To. Go. In!" Garcia persisted. Derek had a look on his face, a hopeless one, which made Spencer inquire as to what was wrong.

"She's not gonna let us skip out on this one Kid, we don't have a choice but to humor her." This made his laugh like he hadn't in a while. Leave it to Morgan and Garcia to collaborate and make his day all better despite all the gloom it contained.

"Comeoncomeoncomeoncomeon PLEASE!"

"Whoa, calm down Garcia. We'll try it out alright?" Prentiss promises. Not that anyone was going to disagree on that decision. Spencer caught a slight smirk on the face of Woodpecker which he assumed was from the fact that by convincing Garcia to go in he had just gotten a whole new group of customers. He stepped aside and gave them a hardy grin.

"Have fun!" Reid could tell Hotch and Rossi were a bit hesitant and Morgan looked like he could just smack himself for not arguing, but they went in anyway.

Spencer had to say, it was bigger on the inside than he'd thought, the building extended farther back than you could see from just the street. It was open in space for the most part, a bar on the far wall that was being run by a woman and a man, some tables scattered throughout the area on the far right in front of a stage, an open dance floor in the center of the room, and some booths on the far left. The tables were few in number but there was one open that would seat them all that they found. As they sat down he gave everything a closer inspection. The stage was large and had a sofa sat on it, black leather. Surrounding it were speakers that looked like they cost more than his apartment and behind it was a DJ station, only a microphone at it's front. Music was playing but it was coming from the soundstation where a young brunette male was adjusting things on the board. The lights were a bit harsh but bearable, multicolred around the bar but flashing white around the stage. The booths were filled with young couples since they were excellent privacy despite the crowd of people. It was as if on instinct people just gave that area and the people in it some quiet time. They looked so happy... This place obviously had a way of charming people. Letting his eyes wander he noticed that the stairs by the stage that led to the second floor were completely empty. The floor however was riddled with people, he could tell this because it was just a platform that circled the walls and was framed with rails, up against the wall were two doors in all, which he assumed were the private concert rooms Woodpecker mentioned. The place was filled but not booming thankfully, it was mid-day after all.

"Not bad, I could hang out here," Prentiss says with a nod of approval.

"Not my style but it looks like everyone here enjoys it," Rossi adds. A girl of about 21 with curly brown pigtails approached their table with a shy smile, notepad in hand.

"My name's Robin, is there anything I can get you folks today?" Her accent wasn't very strong but her voice was also very soft an airy.

"Scotch please," Rossi says. Prentiss, Hotch, JJ, Garcia and Morgan follow.

"Bloody Mary."

"Cape Cod?"

"Piña Colada."

"White wine please."

"Shot of whiskey."

The girl looked to Reid, a light flush on her cheeks. She tried to look him in the eye but couldn't seem to, making him wonder if there was something off about him. "And you? What can I get you?" Damn, he still wanted that coffee...

"Just water please." She nodded, assuring them that she'd be quick before scurrying back to the bar. Without realizing it Morgan had let a laugh slip. "What's so funny?"

"She's totally a fan of pretty boys." Great, more of this. He really didn't want to talk about a strange girl liking him when she was probably just more shy of him because she'd had to ask for his order directly.

"I have to go to the restroom. Tell her I said thank you when she comes by." With that he stood, bypassing the dancing crowd and disappearing into the men's room.

"Nice going Morgan," JJ scolds.

"Seriously." Prentiss and JJ had ganged up on the male and left Garcia to wonder what had made the genius so uncomfortable. Hotch was going to say something when suddenly the dancing stopped and the music cut off, the crowd erupting into applause and screams and whistles. The stage was dark, leaving the flashing lights to hint at a figure that now stood in front of the microphone. It was about this time that Robin returned with their drinks and backed off, her eyes glued to the person that had everyone so excited.

There was a rugged chuckle from the person, male, before he addressed everyone. "Yeesh, and here I thought you guys were happy to be rid of me for two weeks. I should've known that you would miss the Crow though." The screams got louder, the crowd absolutely jazzed for the main attraction.

"That's Crow?" JJ wondered.

"I don't know about how he looks but I'm definitely digging that voice. Nice and raspy with a boyish undertone," Prentiss coos. She didn't even mention that it was completely void of any accent whatsoever.

"Here we go..." Hotch takes a drink of his Cape Cod, thankful for a fruity addition to some much needed alcohol. Rossi was laughing softly at him from the side.

The spotlight switched on, zeroing in on the musician who had the place in an uproar. Penelope, JJ, and Emily let their eyes glue to the male, jaws gaping at the handsome man they were gazing upon. He was wearing heavy steel-toe boots, dark jeans with holes in the knees that clung to his narrow hips, and a leather black sleeve-less vest that had two buckles holding it together at the waist, leaving his chisled abs, broad, bronzed chest, shoulders, and biceps exposed to every eager pair of eyes watching. His soft yet strong featured face was partially shielded by golden blonde hair that was styled so that it side swept his face, framing it on the other side perfectly. His eyes practically pierced through the air with their sharp emerald color that seemed to defy reality. His thin lips were pulled into a crooked grin that showed his perfect pearlescent teeth. It was all the three FBI women could do to keep from swooning.

"I approve."

"I approve!"

"I definitely approve!" Derek shook his head in disbelief, these were the women that were entrusted to catch bad guys, god forbid one of them ever be as good looking as blondie up there...

"Alright alright! I get it! You guys came for the music, I get it! I'll not deprive you of your entertainment!" He turned, nodding back to the DJ to play his track before retrieving a blackened guitar from the sofa behind him. He gave it a test strum and awaited the music to begin, eyes closed as if he were awaiting orders from god himself, the song his ultimate mission in life. Even Hotch had a tough time looking away.

His expertise on the guitar was something to applaude, and his soft voice commanded everyone before it became stronger and rang through the club.

"_I'm tired of being what you want me to be,_

_Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface._

_Don't know what you're expecting of me,_

_Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes._

(_I'm caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow.)  
_

_Every step that I take is another mistake to you.  
_

_(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow.)  
_

_I've become so numb, I can't feel you there_,

_Become so tired, so much more aware._

_I'm becoming this, all I want to do,  
_

_Is be more like me and be less like you!  
_

_Can't you see that you're smothering me?  
_

_Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control._

_Cause everything that you thought I would be,_

_Has fallen apart right in front of you._

_(I'm caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow.)_

_Every step that I take is another mistake to you._

_(Caught in the undertow, just caught inthe undertow.)_

_And every second I waste is more than I can take!_

_I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,_

_Become so tired, so much more aware._

_I'm becoming this, all I want to do,  
_

_Is be more like me and be less like you!  
_

_And I know, I may end up failing too_.

_But I know, you were just like me with someone disappointed in you!_

_I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,  
_

_Become so tired, so much more aware.  
_

_I'm becoming this, all I want to do,  
_

_Is be more like me and be less like you!_

_I've become so numb, I can't feel you there._

_(Tired of being what you want me to be...)  
_

_I've become so numb, I can't feel you there._

(_Tired of being what you want me to be...)_

The crowd went crazy, praising Crow on his performance and throwing flowers and other objects at him in idolization. The BAU bunch didn't go unimpressed either as he gave them his sincerest affections for their love of his music. He laid down his guitar once more. He gathered what flowers he could carry and gave a curt bow to his fans.

Morgan downed his shot as he left the stage and the lights dimmed once more, the other assortments of music playing once again as he disappeared to the back hall, probably to the employee quarters they guessed.

Prentiss immediately made her thoughts known. "I definitely want one."

"I second that!" Garcia added. Something did seem familar about the man she admitted, but she couldn't recall from where she had seen him.

"You really find that punk attractive Baby Girl? He can't be over 24."

"Maybe I like younger guys," she says with a smile that screams _'Ha you're jealous!'_

"Definitely attractive Morgan."

"Better watch out JJ, you're married." Leave it to Hotch to ruin her fun.

"I still say he's bad news."

"Who's bad news hot stuff?" Morgan immediately straightened to look behind him for the cool voice that had called him on his comment. To his shock standing behind him with a Colgate smile and a teasing expression was none other than Crow...

"Hot stuff?" he questions with discomfort.

The blonde gives a chuckle at his question, rubbing his neck and waving it off. "Sorry about that, force of habit. Gotta cater to the ego of paying customers after all."

Garcia gave an inaudible gasp upon seeing the singer up close. She remembered now where she had seen that hair and those eyes before. He was that inn keeper that she and Reid had been looking out when he'd accidently...you know. She was secretly giddy with excitement. It was hard to believe that the hunk she had seen Spencer get worked up over worked in the place they had picked to have drinks. She had no idea he would end up being the infamous Crow.

"I don't mean to intrude or seem nosy, it's just that I noticed you from up on stage and I've never seen you guys around before. I've been working here for years so I knew immediately that you were new to town."

"That we are," Rossi offered.

He gave them a thousand watt smile, lifting a glass of red wine they hadn't even noticed he'd had to his lips. "So what's the occassion? You on some kind of business trip together? You don't look related. Wait, let me guess," he says, holding up a finger. "You're dressed formally for the most part," aside from Garcia, "You didn't go crazy with your orders and one of you even got water. From the fact that you have your brawn on this side of the table," he gestured to Derek, "Your leadership here," he gestured to Hotch, "Your experience," Rossi, "Your brains," Garcia and Prentiss, "And someone with a nice smile and probably excellent social skills," JJ, "I'm guessing a law enforcement team. Not local so normal police forces are out. Probably government, dealing with crime behind the scenes. FBI?"

They were genuinely impressed at his deduction. "You haven't been stalking us have you?" JJ asked with a smile of surprise.

He waved them off, a shaking his head and giving a snicker at the inquiry. "I swear, I just love a good puzzle when I see one, that's all." Garcia found him absolutely irresistible. He was smart, charming, good looking, talented, surely she wouldn't be a bad person if she set Reid up with him! If only he was into guys!

"You have quite the talent, how long have you been singing?" Hotch asks.

"Well pretty much my whole life really. I've always felt that music is the language of the soul, without it any other expression pales in comparison. It's the only time when you see a person for their true selves. When people can connect on another level despite differences and petty issues."

"A noble thought, did that song mean anything to you?" He frowned slightly as if he remembered something unpleasant but immediately replaced it with a solemn smile, showing them just how determined he really was to keep the party happy.

"I wasn't exactly the most liked as a kid, got in a lot of fights. My uh, caretakers at the orphanage had high expectations for me. Afraid I didn't really live up to them though." Garcia's heart panged and even Morgan felt guilty with the blonde giving them a bit of a puppy dog look. "Sometimes it's nice to reflect on the past even if it doesn't mean much now." They nodded in understanding, not pressing the issue. "I'm sorry, I haven't properly introduced myself."

"It's fine, we know employees aren't allowed to give their real names," JJ assures. He shrugs.

"Not when we're working, but I've been doing songs on and off all day and technically I'm off shift." His mischevious smirk that blossomed had all of them instantly warm once again, his happiness contagious. He offers a hand to each of them individually, starting with Morgan being nearest him. "Name's Edward." Derek gave him a firm handshake to which he tightened his grip also. "Nice grip there, you bench?"

"On occasion, you?"

"I make it a habit." Morgan chuckled when he flexed in response in playfulness. He too returned the laugh.

"Name's Derek."

"I'm Aaron and this is David."

"I'm single- I mean Emily!" Prentiss immediately turned fifty shades of red when she realized her slip up, she couldn't help it though, she didn't think anyone normal person could flex their muscles like that. To her relief Edward gave her a reassuring smile and a wink.

"Nice to meet you Emily."

"I'm Jennifer."

"And I am Penelope." He gave a bright grin at Penelope, finding her overall aura refreshing and her attitude and apparel kind of cute. He gave her a small peck on the hand when he took hers.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all."

"Making friends as usual Eddy?" They all looked to the fiery redhead that was strutting up to the table, an impish expression on her face as she eyed Edward.

"You know me, you off shift now too?"

"Hummingbird has to rest too you know. So has he tried flirting with you yet beautiful?" she asks Prentiss, a glint in her blue eyes. This made Emily shift, not sure how to take her comment.

"Nicky you're making her uncomfortable. Kind of like you do everyone..." That latter was spoken in a lower more annoyed tone.

"And you don't think I caught the whole 'hot stuff' comment earlier?" He rolled his eyes immediately, looking away with a defiant gaze and crossing his arms. This made Derek uneasy too.

"I'm sorry if I seem out of line, but are you...?" Rossi wasn't sure he should finish if he might offend Nicky.

"Name's Annika," her accent was strong. She didn't seem upset though, amused seemed more like it and she seemed pretty nice now that she had inserted herself into the conversation. "And it's fine, most people guess my sexual orientation right off the bat. His too for that matter," she says, jerking a thumb in Edward's direction. "I mean I don't really seem like your typical dyke and he's not much of a pansy but yeah, I'm lesbian. Eddy swings both ways. We're all pretty accepting around here."

"Thanks for the update Nicks, I can always count on you to make everyone in the room uneasy." He had followed Emily's example and had turned red, thickly muscled arms tensing as she spilled everything. "Sorry about her, she's fairly blunt about everything."

Inside Garcia was squealing. '_He's bi like Reid_!'

"It's fine, I asked," Rossi assures.

"Hey, I couldn't help but notice but you have an empty chair there," the redhead quips. Edward had noticed too but didn't say anything immediately.

"Sorry but I noticed too, I just didn't want to be rude. You missing someone?"

"One of our team members went to the restroom," JJ answers.

"Hey, there's Pretty Boy now." They looked towards the men's room, sure enough Spencer had stopped at to admire some plants by the bar, adjusting his tie and straightening his vest.

"Cute," Nicky said. Edward had fallen silent, she noticed though. His eyes were locked on the man in purple, his lips parted and a sort of longing and admiring gaze flooding his features.

He took in the tall frame of the slim man, he was six foot six, so he could guestimate this man at about six-one. His features were sharp but also soft, feminine for a man, and he had gentle waving brunette hair that complimented his brown eyes perfectly. He was pale and his skin was void of any discrepencies. He let his eyes linger for longer than he probably should've, but he couldn't help it. The brunette looked absolutely delectable. Such creamy flesh... He was at a loss for words.

"Oh man, you got the hots for Plum Boy over there!" Nicky taunts with a smirk. He finds himself biting his lip nervously in the process of pulling his gaze away. Thoughts running through his head a mile a minute.

"Shut up," he snapped. His gaze found Penelope for some reason. "He, uh, like coffee?" he tries in a softer tone, barely loud enough to hear.

Derek was the one to answer. "Look, he's not-"

"Yes! He does!" Morgan shot her a glare as if to say, '_What the hell are you doing Garcia?'_

At this Edward apologized and dragged Nicky off with him, dodging the crowd and coming up the opposite end of the bar as Reid headed back, missing his gaze. He sat down once more, taking a sip of his water that had warmed in his absence. Upon looking at his friends he noticed that they shared similar looks of disbelief and confusion, which made him so in return.

"You guys okay?" he tries. Morgan was going to explain when Robin and the other bartender approached their table with a mug in hand.

"Here you are sir," the man says, setting it before Reid.

"Um, sorry, I just ordered the water." Robin shakes her head.

"A gift from an anonymous member," she says softly. "Enjoy please."

With that they head back to their posts, silencing Morgan for reasons he couldn't fathom himself.

"Who would buy me a drink?" Spencer wonders aloud. He smells it first, determining that it was coffee surprisingly. He gave it a small sip, then another, longer drink. He had to blink back his surprise though as he swallowed that first heavenly drink.

Double espresso...

The blonde watched from the bar, twirling a rose in hand as he watched the man practically sigh over his drink. "Very nice..." he murmurs as he presses the bloom to his nose and inhales deeply.

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was a lot of fun to write and I can't wait to get started on the next one! Speaking of drinks though I'm off to fuel my Mountain Dew addiction and collapse of caffeine overload. Questions and/or comments are welcomed and encouraged! Plus brownie points to anyone who has actually watched Deadman Wonderland, you're awesome! Until next time guys!_


	4. Chapter 4

_EDITED AND REVISED_

_Hey again! Glad to get another chapter in here, sorry if it's a little rusty._

_TazzieLuv13: Once again your praise is appreciated, and oh so clever are you. :)_

_Malou1: Glad to supply you with yet another chapter._

_Ttalgi: I promise to update as often as possible. I swear!_

_All things aside now, I give you chapter four of Wine, Roses, and Psychosis. I disclaim any real life bands, people, or shows. I own only the OC's._

* * *

**Account of an Angel?**

Reid had counted seven discrepancies among his hotel room, or really, what was his hotel room the previous night. The night had been long and restless, even with the supposed high end mattresses, he just couldn't find the motivation to find sleep. His team had said to him their goodbyes just hours before, and he had equal time to find another place to stay. Garcia had booked them as a group for one night on the agency's budget, but now he had to find something he could fund on his own for a while to come. What the hell he was going to do he had no idea.

A ring coming from his pocket roused him into sitting up once more. It had begun. "Doctor Reid."

"_Spencer we have the evidence from the scene Saturday night ready for you to look over at headquarters. The chief wanted you to come by and give your opinion_." Deputy Colsen, obviously not forgetting their agreement to forget formalities around one another.

"Right, just tell him I'll be there as fast as I can."

"_Do you need me to pick you up? I'm just around the corner._" One less taxi fee...

"That'd be great actually if it's no trouble James."

"_Not at all, be there in a few_." Spencer hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket, running the other hand over his face. That coffee had really helped last night...

He had yet to find out who his secret buyer was, his team didn't give him anything concerning what had happened while he was in the restroom other than that he'd missed an incredible performance by the Crow. He actually did pick up some sound in there and even though the words were muffled he had to admit the voice was melodiously pleasing. Who would've ordered him the drink he had been craving all day though, when he hadn't mentioned it? He was probably just overthinking it. It might have been that waitress Derek mentioned, or maybe it just happened to be someone with similar tastes. Hell, it was probably one of his team members and they just didn't admit to it.

He met James downstairs and they rode to the station in overall silence, meeting Warren in his office. The photos of the lobby were rather disturbing. Bodies lay mangled around every corner, sliced open and ranging in severity. Others had been shot, from the guns of the fallen from what ballistics determined. It had been a massacre. Yet there was Alice Kiersten, perfectly preserved and taken care of.

"Anything else you need to tell me?"

"We found that the card had been handwritten on, including the briar work on the edges." A nod. "The examiner wants to give you the details on the bodies. What's your verdict?"

"I want to hear what the examiner has to say before I go assuming things, if you don't mind at least."

"Of course. Colsen, walk him down."

"Yes sir." Reid followed James without a word, letting himself be led through the halls in silence. "You okay Spencer?"

"I'm fine, just, not sure where I'm going to stay. I can't really afford anything high class around here."

"The FBI doe'n't take care of that stuff?"

"Not when lone agents are sent on special request assignments." He nods in understanding.

"Well ya can always ask O'Brian or Kingsley, they hang out at that Deadman Wonderland enough they should know a good place."

"They go there?"

"Where do ya think that guy with the declarative memory came from?" 'That was a man from there?' He would've liked to meet that person himself. Loss of opportunity...

"You Doctor Reid?" a woman asks. The medical examiner. They were in the morgue.

"I'm he."

"They told me you were coming. I figured you'd want to hear this." She uncovered some cadavers, corpses from the incident. Three officers that were on duty at the time. "Initially I thought that the attacks made with the knife were hostile and spur of the moment."

"They weren't?"

"Afraid not. They were killed differently, very much so." She gestured towards the three males one after the other. "I was able to deduce which of the lacerations was made first on each victim. This one suffered a straight stab to the heart, killing him instantly," she starts, pointing to a straight edged wound over the top left of the man's chest. "This one had his throat slit over the jugular, he bled out in seconds." He noted the single cut across the second's neck under his Adam's Apple. "And this man received a sharp puncture to the brain stem, severing it and literally disabling the body from keeping itself alive. The blade, which I determined to be an everyday pocket knife, was expertly pushed through the base of the skull at an upward angle and centered up exactly with the stem. These are the cleanest kills I've ever seen in my life." The final man's death was by fare the most impressive of the three and the most difficult to do in a rush to survive an onslaught of officers.

"So what you're saying is that they were killed in a second and the rest of the damage was, just for the hell of it?" Colsen asks.

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Talk about a ninja assassin..." Reid was flabbergasted, at this new information, which was surprisingly was synonymous with James' comment. Extreme skill would be needed to pull off such flawless executions, and only someone with precision could severe a brain stem, hit a heart dead center, and slit the most vital artery in the body in just a few seconds time. His personal opinion just changed drastically, and not just because of his prowess.

"I have a general profile for Chief Warren." He circled and started out, Colsen in tow.

"Wait, what? Already? How'd you do that so fast?"

"Super mega genius remember?"

Warren was making an official case file when Spencer and James returned, surprised at how quickly the two had returned. "Back so soon?"

"Get your squad together and meet me in the briefing room please."

"Whoa wait, you already have a profile ready?"

"A base at least."

.

"From what I've seen of the crime scene, past ones, and the broadcast Saturday night, I've determined that our unsub is a white male in his early to mid thirties." Spencer didn't waste formalities when the meeting was called.

"How can you possibly know this?"

"First of all from the range of victims he's obviously young, strong, and capable, but of an age that gives him reasonable knowledge and experience. Particularly in medical research. His speech from the broadcast hinted at the typical patterns for a college educated Caucasian male. He's physically fit and charismatic to the point of being able to lure in even the most suspecting of people, but also a social introvert. He's single and may be killing because he feels he has to. He enjoys the kill and the kill only, but his pent up anger makes him stay after the victim is already dead to mutilate the bodies to express his rage. He made it clear that he's mad at the world for reaping the benefits of life when they don't deserve it, so he must constantly have to found outlets for anger and empty it all out in the midst of killing. He's intelligent and probably has a stable job as something highly prestigious, a doctor, a professor, maybe even a detective. Any of these would give him a sense of authority and respect while also covering for his innocence and knowledge of the human body."

"If he's so successful and good looking then why is he spending his time locked up at home raping and killing people?"

"Well that's where the real questions are. Perhaps he just feels that he's alone, but he finds temporary comfort in his union with his victims before death and that explains the rapes themselves. A person with this much rage may have a hard time finding the capability of calming down enough to find any real romance." So the obvious was out there, now was time for the unbelievable part. "I've also determined that he develops personal connections, however small, with all of his victims, planned or not. At the studio he slaughtered the employees with instant death inducing blows whether by gunshot or by blade, either way he killed them quickly and painlessly. The additional mutilation was added after these first attacks to throw off his prowess at killing while also ridding him of his negative feelings and giving him a sense of mental and possibly even sexual release. He's angry but he's too compassionate to actually mutilate someone he finds innocent while they're still alive, the thought of torturing someone isn't what gets him off, he just wants the death itself. That's all I have."

Even with so vague of information, the officers were stunned that he'd come up with even that much. They hadn't turned up anything with their investigations and Spencer had one upped them all in one day. Respect for him blossomed, and he released them from the meeting himself...

* * *

"_Omg I can't even believe you did that Reid, you are just growing up so fast!_" Garcia of course had called as soon as they landed in Quantico, eager to hear how things went on his first day. He'd told her to pass on his deductions to the team and his reasoning and to call if they had input. She too was proud of him, as was Colsen.

"He did great today, really stumped me."

"_So did you figure out your sleeping arrangements lovely duckling?"_

"Well-"

"I've got it covered."

"**_You do_**?" Spencer was just hearing of this let alone Garcia.

"Yeah, I talked to Kingsley and he said he knew the perfect hotel and rates were under fifty bucks a night."

_"Is it sanitary?!"_ Reid could see where she was coming from, most decent hotels would never do rates below fifty dollars a night, especially in New York.

"I swear it's perfect! Scout's honor!"

"What's it at least called?"

"Holmes Inn."

_"Eeeep!_" At the squeal both men cowered away from the phone with hisses of pain.

"Damn it! Ya scream into people's ears often?!"

"_Sorry! It's nothing! Sorry_!" Was it just him or was Garcia getting stranger by the day? "_Anyway I have to go! Bye my darling_!"

"Well that was weird." He shrugged, supposing as far as normal people went.

"So. Do you have directions for that Inn?"

"Yeah, it's on the far end of town. Luckily though that's just a few minutes away by car. Neighborhood's quiet, it's nice. You'll be fine. Plus I'm told the place is empty besides the innkeeper most of the time." Sounded great, if it was true. "I'll drop you off on my way home."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

"No problemo." Luckily they were both already at Colsen's car. "So uh, how long you been with the FBI?"

"Since I was 22, I immediately entered the BAU."

"Whoa, that young huh? How many years does that make now?"

"Eight." Colsen let out a long whistle.

"Damn." He wasn't kidding about the distance from the station. It took all of five minutes to reach the neighborhood he spoke of. Another two to find the inn. "Here we are, casa de Holmes. Your stop sir." He got out helping Reid empty his stuff on the front step, giving him a handshake as he started back. "Call me if you need a ride, I'm free."

"Thanks again." He was glad he at least had a pending friend in James if nothing else. He could use one. God did he need sleep, decent sleep. A good meal would be nice too. He was about to go in when he pulled on the handle. The door however wouldn't budge. "Huh?" There was a note on the door, the writing was rather beautiful print.

'_On the off chance somebody comes by, I regret to say that I must work until late evening. I promise to tend to anyone needing service upon my return. -E.H.'_

"Guess there was truth to the part about the innkeeper being the only one around." He could call Colsen, but he didn't want to intrude. He could stand to wait until the owner came back, it was already evening, surely he could go an hour or two since it was fairly warm out. "Wonder what E.H. stands for..."

* * *

Crow was just finishing his last performance of the night, admirers from all over swarming him off stage. Women draped against him and men even ogled him from the sidelines. The lights were on him again it seemed, but of course he didn't care. He never really did, but then he had to smile for their sake. Their adoration was nothing to him if not simply a compliment to his talents. He had a routine it seemed for every night, or rather every day...

He had dazzled in his jeans and boots yet again, this time sporting a navy blue tank and a black sleeveless jacket with a white fur collar and a silver chain necklace he was rarely without. His hair went unchanged but still held it's edgy look while still making him seem artistic. He politely shooed away his fans, wishing to just get home and work his plans. He needed a drink, now.

"Mr. Crow! Mr. Crow?!" More? A young blonde and brunette girl along with their male companion approached him anxiously. He put on his most charming smile.

"My apologies ladies, I didn't see you there. Can I help you in any way?" he coos. They were immediately star struck by him.

"U-um, you were really, wow..." The fawning, the swooning...same old same old. "We were wondering um, if it's no trouble, if we could walk with you?" Of course. Why else would they have stopped him?

"I see absolutely no reason why not. I don't live far from here, you can escort me part of the way." He gave the blonde a classy wink, offering for her and her friends to walk ahead of him. The male took to him quickly, starting a hardy conversation right off the bat about his guitar skills.

"That was a wicked rift you did there on your last song. Did you write that yourself?"

"I did actually, a handful are actually my own compositions. Only on rare occasions do I do covers Handsome," he smirks.

"That is so cool." The girls were giggling affectionately and ogling him as per usual. He did his usual, told them what a great place Brooklyn was, thanked them for their support of the club, wished them well while they continued their visit of New York, and of course he managed to find out where they were staying. Occupational hazard really...

"Won't you please sing for us?"

"Pretty please?" He held up his hands in surrender, chuckling at the request before accepting.

"Anything for some lovely new friends. Any requests?"

"One of your originals dude, I'd like to hear another one."

"Yeah!"

"Alright, alright." He clears his throat, thinking of one of his songs off the top of his head.

"_This is what I brought you,_

_This you can keep._

_This is what I brought,_

_You may forget me._

_I promise to depart,_

_Just promise one thing._

_Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep._

_This is what I brought you,_

_This you can keep._

_This is what I brought,_

_You may forget me._

_I promise you my heart, _

_Just promise to sing._

_Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep._

_Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep._

_This is what I thought,_

_I thought you'd need me._

_This is what I thought, _

_So think me näive._

_I promised you a heart,_

_You promised to keep._

_Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep._

_Kiss my eyes and lay me to..._

_Sleep."_

( **_Song: 'Prelude 12/21' by AFI_** )

It was a short song that was less than 2 minutes but it wasn't like he had a lot of time to give them a concert. Besides, as much fun as he could have with them he had stuff to do now that he knew the FBI was in New York. Honestly he was surprised they had jumped on the case so quickly. He wasn't expecting a legitimate response until mid week...

"Wow, you're so good."

"Too good!" They all fawned and he gave them flirting grins.

"Yes well this is my stop guys so I'm afraid I have to depart." He was craving wine, red. And loin, rare... His thinking food.

* * *

It was dark and Spencer had been waiting for two hours. He was beginning to think that 'late evening' meant 'late night'. Of course the quiet time was nice for his ongoing migraine, and the air was crisp in this area of the city. He wondered if whoever owned this place had any aspirin...

His thoughts were interrupted by a heavenly voice that carried from what sounded like just around the corner of the hedges that surrounded the hotel. The voice was male, soothing with a honey tune to it, a soft vibrato to compliment it. "Who's singing?" And why haven't they come by sooner? He caught a glimpse of a brunette male rounding the corner, along with two women, but none of them were the source of the voice. They spoke to someone else, who remained hidden by the bushes. They seemed to be saying goodbyes because they began rounding back, the soft voice growing nearer.

"Goodnight." Spencer found his heart stopping as the figure came into view before him. The man was taller than even he at six-foot one. He was brooding and definitely athletic since his thick arms practically screamed weight lifting. His steel toe boots clanked against the pavement with a thud following them, further proof of his built frame.

The man stopped some feet away from him, his eyes seeing him sitting upon the stoop for the first time. Spencer's brown eyes met emerald green, a familiar feeling rising inside him.

The blonde was rather speechless to say the least, recognition spreading over his features at the sight of the male who had entranced him the previous evening. He smiled to himself inwardly at his stroke of luck. The cute one out of his current enemies was on his front stoop and none of his team in sight. Could it be that easy? He couldn't help taking in the thin frame of the man up close. Nice and lean, something worth running his hands over...

For a moment, both were completely void of words. But after a few minutes Crow spoke, offering a hand.

"I'm extremely sorry for my absence, I didn't realize I had company. I'm so used to living in solitude." His voice was perfect, completely void of the northern accent most Brooklyn's had. His kind yet charming smile enchanted the FBI agent, as did his soft gaze. He didn't realize that he was accepting his hand and being lifted to his feet. He had trouble finding his voice because he realized that he knew this man with gem-like eyes. '_The innkeeper with the model background_...'

"I-it's f-fine, I-I just...I waited..." The blonde gave him a crooked grin that turned his legs to jelly, as well as a light chuckle. To his surprise he brought the man's slender hand to his lips, pecking it softly and making him flush.

"My name's Edward Hopkins," he purrs.

"Like the founding governor of-" Spencer had to clamp a hand over his mouth to shut himself up.

"The Connecticut colony. Yeah." To his surprise the blonde finished his statement with a light flush, obviously having some sort of embarrassment to his knowledge of the pointless fact most would have thought him weird for knowing. They shared a look before Spencer averted his eyes once more. "And might I have your name?"

"I'm uh, Doctor Spencer Reid. I-I'm with the FBI..." Damn it Spencer! You have to be some kind of idiot for just blurting that out!

A look spread over Edward's face, one of feigned surprise with hints of amusement as well as slight anger, but it was quickly altered to a convincing expression of interest and marvel. "FBI huh? We'll Doctor Reid it's an honor to have you here. I expect you need a place to lay that pretty head of yours correct?" Spencer nodded with a blush, to which he smiled. "We'll then, it's cruel of me to keep you waiting at my door any longer." He pulled out his keys and unlocked the front door, stepping aside to usher in his guest.

Spencer stepped inside with a surprised expression. The interior was traditional style, he wouldn't be surprised if the building itself was a hundred years old. The foyer was open with a high ceiling and flying buttresses. Above was a crystal chandelier, and the wallpaper was country-style floral patterned. To his left was a hall that opened to a dining room slash kitchen that was quaint but cozy, and to his right was a hall that contained many rooms, which he assumed to be the quarters, with a mahogany staircase at it's end. The side tables that were covered in white silk cloths also held crystalline vases with bouquets of red roses at the peak of their bloom. Even petals decorated the tabletops. "It's not much, but it's home. I decorate myself, kinda shows my inner gay don't you think?" Spencer didn't want to be rude but he had to stifle a laugh at his wholehearted comment. "Luckily for you though you get first pick of any room you want."

"You have any suggestions?"

"Well since you asked...the room next to mine has a great view over this end of the city and you can see the Brooklyn bridge over the river. A rather beautiful sight at sunrise and sunset. I could help you set up in there if you'd like, and I'd only be a wall away." The blonde didn't mention his interest in sharing a room. That would be unprofessional in his line of work.

Spencer actually wanted nothing more than to sleep near this man, so a room next door sounded magnificent. "Sounds great," he manages to mumble. Inside he had so many random facts he was dying to just spurt. Maybe if he said them more calmly... "You know roses used to represent the evil instead of today's stereotypical symbol of love and romance.."

"Yep, they were used in many new buildings. Architects would use them as sort of a lucky charm in hopes that the structure wouldn't be complicated in any way." Once again the geographical profiler was surprised by the blonde's knowledge. "There's a few odds and ends about this place actually. The owner being one." He was rubbing his neck in a way that made Spencer think of a child speaking to it's mother on her birthday, with flushed cheeks and an semi innocent demeanor that was somewhat hinting at admittance of flaws and also at hidden jokes.

'_He's adorable_...'

"Some of them concern the building and others are just my typical discrepancies. My eyes tend to make people uncomfortable in some cases for whatever reason."

"They're beautiful..." He was grateful that he had whispered it and Edward didn't seem to hear it, he would've died from embarrassment. "Well, it's just because they're so rare."

"Yeah, I guess. Only about less than half a percent of the entire human race has eyes like this so brownie points for individuality huh?" He beamed his thousand watt smile, shaking a strand of golden hair from his eyes. '_He knows the statistics_...' "I'm sorry did you want some dinner? I haven't ate yet so I was going to whip something up anyway."

"I'm actually pretty hungry," he admitted.

"Alright then, you like fish? I'm a master in the art of tilapia," he teases, heading to the kitchen. Spencer follows after, nodding in confirmation. The table was glass top and the chairs were black metal that was intricately designed. The cushions were the softest he'd ever felt too. He was amazed to find that Edward was maneuvering the kitchen with speed and prowess, setting out ingredients he didn't expect while expertly defrosting the fish he presented. He watched in awe as he tossed the meat into a pan and set the oven on high while wrapping it in aluminum foil. After just minutes he removed it, lathering it in various spices. Lemon pepper, a dash of paprika, some oregano, and a squirt of lemon juice. An unusual combination he thought, but he'd try it. "Bon apatite. Drink of choice?"

"Um..." What did he want? "Just some milk is fine."

He laughed as if Spencer had just told him the funniest joke. "Sorry, I live on wine and milk even though I keep other things." He didn't mind sounding like a drunk, he wasn't one, he just preferred to space alcohol throughout the day. He poured him a glass from the gallon he'd pulled from the fridge, setting it before him along with his food. Spencer noticed when Edward went to the cupboard and returned with red wine that it was from an unlabeled bottle.

"Homemade?" he asks.

"Hehe yeah. Just everyday stuff when I don't want to waste a good year," he replies as he fixes his own plate.

The fish smelled delicious, so the FBI agent eagerly took his first bite, flavor exploding on his taste buds. It was still so juicy from where the moisture had been kept in and it fell apart on his tongue so wonderfully. "This is amazing! Delicious." Edward to his amusement had already wolfed most of his down, his eyes finding him at his compliment. He had to chuckle.

"Mwat?" His mouth was full and his cheeks puffed. His eyes were wide but clueless as to how funny he looked hunched against the counter like he was. He gulped down what was in his mouth and wiped away some wine from his chin, his gaze expectant.

"Nothing. Thank you." Was he really smiling genuinely? It had been a while since he'd done that. He finished in a snap and soon felt fatigue hitting him. This Edward noticed.

"You need help packing your stuff upstairs? I can take you to the room."

"I'd appreciate it." He was going to pick up his smallest one first but Edward had snatched it up, sliding it over his shoulder and gathering the biggest on his shoulder as if it were a sack of potatoes. The other two he grabbed by the handles and lifted to be level with his hips. With a smile he nodded up the stairs, leaving Spencer to follow. On the second floor he gestured to some double doors.

"Workout room, I spend most of my time there if you ever want to come visit," he Spencer wouldn't exactly make it his hangout but if the offer still stood when he was free...

There were only three floors, so when they got there Edward nodded to the room first on their right. "This is my room, if you need anything just knock. You're here." The room next to that was nice in standards. A small twin bed with beige covers, a television and DVD player, a nightstand with a crystal shade lamp, and a bathroom to the back. The window was what got his attention though. Edward was right, the view was to die for. The moonlight reflected off of the river beautifully this time of night with the lit bridge over it.

"It's gorgeous."

"Yeah...gorgeous." Edward wasn't looking where he was though. He had his eyes roaming down the backside of the shorter man. He set down Spencer's things with care and cleared his throat so that he faced him. "I'm gonna do a run through and crash. Like I said, anything you need I'll get. Just ask."

"Oh, what about your rates?" the agents asks.

Edward facepalmed. "Right. It's thirty a night." Spencer gave him a shocked look along with a questioning glance. "I don't need a lot of money," he states bluntly with a shrug. "Hell, my last customer was a man that calls the alleys home. He stayed a week for free before he found a relative to stay with."

"That's extremely generous of you."

His cheeks dusted slightly in a blush and he scratched the back of his head. "Well, I try to help out when I can if someone really needs it. I mean I grew up in an orphanage so having nothing...I kind of get it ya know? I don't want to go back to that..." That panged Spencer's heart. "Well, goodnight Doctor Reid."

"Call me Spencer, please." He smiled. He liked that name.

"Alright. Goodnight Spencer."

"Goodnight Edward." Spencer was left then, the door closed, the lights off. Edward Hopkins...He could get used to that unique name.

* * *

The blonde went through the building and turned off appliances and lights as he went, sighing in frustration. "Well, there goes that plan..." Out of all the places a fed could've picked to stay...

He felt his eye twitch and he clenched and relaxed his fist.

Ah well, at least he got the hot one of the bunch. The Derek guy was pretty desirable, but he liked submissive men better. He could always use this to his advantage, but it would also be a hindrance no matter how it was looked at.

He tended and relaxed several times as he trekked back up the stairs, cracking his joints multiple times and taking deep breaths. "Just take it slow Edward, you can do this. Woo the man, you've done it a thousand times..."

Then why did something feel different?

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed! I much appreciate your dedication to reading. Questions, comments, concerns all welcome. Also, legit question for you readers: Would you guys be mad if I changed the story cover to a picture of what Edward's face should look like? Or do you prefer the current one? The one I have in mind is a portrait style pic as opposed to the on eI have. Let me know in reviews! Merry Christmas!_


	5. Chapter 5

_EDITED AND REVISED _

_So sorry for the delay everyone! I've been reduced to my phone and it's not easy at all to type these out on one. Plus I was finishing an update to one of my anime fics. Many apologies! I'm a bit rushed so I'm afraid I'll have to get to comment replies another time, but I would like to say that there were no responses to my question last chapter on changing the cover picture for the story. I went ahead and changed it so if there are any objections now feel free to bring them forth. I do not own Criminal Minds. Here's chapter five._

* * *

**Taste Is My Favorite Sense**

Spencer had slept better than he had in ages in that feather stuffed heaven called a bed. He'd never had the privilege of ever sleeping in such luxury, not to mention the fact that he was paying thirty bucks for it. The silken sheets enveloped him in their smooth embrace, licking softly at his skin with every breath. He still wore flannel nightwear, but rolling up the sleeves and legs wasn't a bad idea after he hit the mattress. He was woken by the gentle stream of light that poured invitingly into the room and kissed everything in its wake. At first he had to admit a little disappointment because he had been hoping to awaken to the sunrise and witness the view over the river he had been told of, but he had to have missed it by a few hours. He slowly rose, running a hand over his face. Surprisingly he seemed fully rested, which was a rarity. A realization also sank in, now that he'd provided a generic profile he didn't need to report in to the police department. He would do his own investigation and bring forth information when he had it. So in a way he was free to do as he pleased as long as he remembered to look for clues as often as possible.

It was weird waking so late, not having to be somewhere at seven in the morning. Not waking up before the birds themselves. Nevertheless he slid out of the comfortable bed, making it as he went so that it looked as nice as it did upon his arrival. It was interesting though as he started to undress, there was a golden tube protruding from the wall with a small cap over the opening. This just further proved his theory of the buildig's age. Messenger tubes he knew were common in the 1800's but he never expected them to still be in a building like this. That was the wall that he shared with Edward wasn't it? His room, er, office, should be on the receiving end of this... He wondered if maybe they still worked.

He tapped the metal softly, watching for any signs of damage. Nothing out of the ordinary. He lifted the cap on the end, pondering what would be something appropriate to say should it work. "Um, hello?"

...

Nothing. "Edward?"

...

Still nothing. "He's probably already up and around.." he mumbled. Then again the thing might not even work after all these years. He replaced the cap, gathering up his clothes for the day as well his usual shower supplies. The bathroom itself was beautiful, black marble countertops, sterling silver plumbing and such, and an opaque glass door sitting open on the shower. He wondered momentarily how the innkeeper could afford such luxuries, before his eidetic memory kicked in and he recalled that he was an ex model. That in itself shouldn't have set him up for such a life, but also listed under past occupations was veterinarian. Perhaps that could provide for him for a segment of his life? A blush crept up his cheeks at the thought of his temporary landlord being someone with diverse talents and interests.

He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it from his slim shoulders, folding it and setting it aside to soon be joined by the pants he pulled off next. Once naked he ran some warm water, not lukewarm yet not hot, stepping in and letting his long hair be swept back by the stream. It was a nice feeling for first thing in the morning, he felt his body relaxing while he became more aware, his senses catching up with him. He lathered shampoo into his hair on instinct, thinking maybe he should call Garcia for an update, once he was done in there at least. Rinsing off took him little to no time and he stepped out feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.

He slipped on dark gray slacks and some black socks, buttoned up a red dress shirt and combed through his drying hair. His normal routine for the most part. Once he cleaned up in there he called Garcia.

_"You have reached the great and powerful Penelope! How goes it boy genius?"_

"Garcia, I assume you squealed in mine and James' ears yesterday because you knew who ran Holmes Inn." It was an accusatory greeting but it had occurred to him that it was true.

_"How dare you blame me for my outbursts! You know very well that sometimes I just get excited!"_

"And your excitement had nothing to do with the fact that the innkeeper is a particular blonde?" he presses. A moment of silence.

_"Okay so I knew! Sue me for liking hot blondes! He's a hunk of Adonis!" _He wasn't denying that fact... He slaps himself on the wrist for letting that distract him though.

"You didn't think I'd like to know this little tidbit of information? Especially after what happened in the tech room?!" he scolds.

_"Well I figured it'd be good for you...I mean imagine how good you'll feel when all of this is over! Besides, you weren't going to find any other place for that low a price without being a contributing roommate!"_ On that she did have a point. He couldn't complain about the living arrangements...Still.

He let out a sigh. "Is there any word from Hotch?"

_"Yeah actually, the team added to your profile. They've told the NYPD to keep an eye out for men fitting your profile who are being treated for STD's. You know, since he's slept with hundreds of people?"_ She had trouble even grasping the extent of having so many bed partners.

Spencer was surprised he's missed that, then he hadn't dwelled on the rapes as much as the rest of his MO... His first mistake on the case. Then again... "You should've had them contact me first. Someone being treated for STD's wouldn't have the physical capabilities to get the job done like he does."

_"Oh..."_ She seemed genuinely surprised the team had made a mistake themselves in his absence._ "I'll get back with them and tell them to scratch that then. And here I thought we'd narrowed things down to about two hundred. New York is waaay too populated for my tastes."_

"Yeah, sorry to disappoint you. Alright, well, I think I'm going to grab some breakfast."

_"Breakfast?!"_ she squeals._ "Reid, it's 12:30!" _Was it really? Had he slept that long?

"Oh...well thanks anyway Garcia. Call you tomorrow." He ended the call then. He had to admit that despite the misunderstanding the case was already progressing farther than he anticipated. They had narrowed things down to a solid profile at least. Maybe he'd get to return home quicker than he'd thought... Even though it was past lunch time, he was still craving a breakfast spread. Maybe Edward had some poptarts or something? He decided he'd check.

He closed his door softly behind him, heading downstairs with more energy than he'd had when he first woke up. He noticed that some doors were larger than others as he reached the second floor. He wondered what they could be, remembering only that Edward had pointed out a gym and not much else. He didn't want to be a snoop though so he ignored them. Abrupt grunts however got his attention. They were coming from the end of the hall and they sounded like they were strained gasps of pain. He scurried to the double doors that were slightly ajar, peaking through the crack to get a glimpse of who could be making the rough noises...

* * *

Edward had awoken around eight that morning, early for him, especially since he usually awoke around lunch time. He always had difficulties being a morning person, he was definitely a night owl if his part-time job didn't already hint at it. He hadn't bothered with a shower since as soon as he woke up he had energy to burn, fairly typical for him considering his issues. He was still working on a self diagnosis. Couldn't afford to have records of his flaws if he could help it. He was already itching to distract himself from... Well himself.

He left bed in nothing but his jade boxers that clung to him like a second skin, heading downstairs for a pear and bottle of his unlabeled red wine, chugging it down like cheerry Coke. He knew he'd probably have liver problems at this rate but hey, a glass of wine a day is beneficial...er, some shit like that. Not like he was planning on a long life as was. He'd die a warriors death or his body would betray him early, one of the two were inevitable. He also lit the occassional cigarette every now and then, but not near often enough that he was worried about cancer. Like a pack every two months was his limit. He never understood the addictive part of it, he had no problem going long intervals without one. He didn't linger on it though, the old days of his life in the world of medical study made him immune to most anything. He'd made sure of that.

He'd immediately set up his weights, putting it at his ultimate limit of 350lbs. He wanted to push himself today. The excercise would inevitably leave him sore as hell. That didn't bother him though, he'd been through much worse. His goal was to tire himself out actually. He wanted to make it harder for himself to get riled up. He'd started at around 8:30, setting his ultimate goal at 500 reps.

...

Four long, grueling hours later, Edwards entire body was slick with perspiration, the sweat glistening off of him like oil. His normally golden locks were dripping wet and were literally plastered to his face and neck, out of which his veins and arteries were bulging from overexertion. His entire body was tensed, his skin red from the blood his heart was pumping through him at an alarming rate. His teeth were gritted much to his discomfort, his canines giving him more excruciating pain than the rest of him. No mistake though, his bulging muscles, his flexed pectorals, his stretched biceps, triceps, and deltoids, were twitching from use, as if his body itself was alive in his current position. All of these things accentuated by how his arms were extended full length above his head, the weight of 350lb practically glaring back at him. his breathing was rapid, but controlled into systematic bursts from years of practice.

"Four-hundred...ninety-nine..." he hissed. He slowly lowered the metal down to his breast plate once more, grunting and groaning in pain as he did so. He paused just long enough to compose himself for this last rep. "Five...hundred!" As he struggled to lift the damned thing up fully for the last time he let out a labored yell of relief, quickly dropping it back onto the rack once done. He practically collapsed then, his arms falling limp at his sides, dangling lifelessly off the bench as his eyes forced closed and he regained his composure, his breathing slowing finally so that he could draw in a huge gulp of oxygen he deperately needed. His entire body was twitching uncontrollably, his being trying its best to relax again, but it had been hours since it had done so. He could've passed out from exhaustion then and there, but he knew that was never wise after exerting the body as much as he had. He might not wake up...

He found himself opening his emerald eyes to the white ceiling, just looking up at it for no particular reason. That was when he got this sudden feeling, his head turning as much as it could so that he could look over at the barely ajar door. It was brief, but he caught a glimpse of soft, chocolate brown eyes. His pulse immediately skyrocketed again, the realization that his guest had been watching him for go knows how long giving him a sense of pride that had him feeling pretty damn good.

He gave a long inhale and put on his best smile. "Doctor Reid, I feel almost flustered. How long have you been admiring me?" he coos teasingly. A moment passed before the former poked his head into the room, his face only a few shades lighter than his shirt.

"S-sorry, I was going downstairs and it sounded like someone was hurt..." His expression, though still teasing, softened at the brunette.

"Of course, I didn't mean to cause you any alarm. I simply pushed myself too far again... Sounds are so misleading that our hearing can sometimes fool us." Spencer nodded in understanding, averting his gaze. Out of courtesy he did his best, forcing himself to raise and straighten no matter how much it hurt. Something registered in Spencer and he rushed to the blonde's aid, his slender hands steadying him by the shoulders. His cool touch was like sweet relief to the aching man and he craved more... but he didn't let that be known. Spencer was even more shocked with himself.

He had always been a partial germophobe, he was reluctant to shake most people's hands, yet here he was, helping up a man who was practically dripping in his own sweat. "T-thank you, b-but really, I'd be no man if I couldn't stand up on my own.." Edward assures him, waving him off casually and standing the rest of the way on his own and masking his true distress. He'd be pathetic for the rest of the day but that would work in his favor while the agent was staying with him.

Spencer found himself embarassed he'd made Edward feel less masculine by helping him. He should've known it'd hurt his pride. "S-sorry..." It was then that he got a better look at the male before him. He would've never noticed at a distance if at all under different circumstances, the small discrepancy, the first he'd noticed, on the male's flesh. His tanned skin that he'd previously believed to be perfect and uncalloused, was riddled with dozens of scars. They had faded to match the rest of his flesh but the raised skin was much more apparent up close. They were small, at least the majority of them, and were straight, as if he had attempted to make a chicken-scratch pattern on himself. Others however, were long and jagged edged and deep, as if he'd been attacked with something sharp. Sympathy immediately panged at Spencer's heart, his mind running rampid with questions as to what had happened to him.

Edward noticed this change in him and gave a miniscule, knowing grin. "They're pretty ugly huh? My battle scars." The FBI agent found himself not able to speak. The blonde merely sighed and retrieved his unfinished wine, guzzling it down as if he depended on it, having to wipe a stream of it from his chin afterwards. "I wasn't the most popular kid at the orphanage when I was younger," he explains without much emotion. "The biggest of the other kids but also the most picked on. Go figure huh? I didn't really assert dominance over them like everyone expected me to, I was more of a reader and a poet than anything else. I suppose that got the adults' attention when I was young. Tends to, especially in a Catholic orphanage. Other kids tend to get jealous when your showered with praise and attention like that. It wasn't my fault I was smarter though. It's not exactly selective." Spencer could relate to that much. "Of course I was too soft hearted to really assert myself but I did fight back. It usually escalated pretty badly before it came to an end though." He was elaborating unneededly, but he felt he could tell the story without much judgment from the smaller male. Plus it was a rarity he kept anyone around to listen to him ramble. He was usually alone with the dogs. "My teen years I manned up a good deal and started building myself up. Got into fights a little more and it got to the point that intimidated people so much I rarely had to deal with it anymore. Then again, that's where these babies came from." He ran long finger over a particularly jagged and feral looking scar on his right pectoral, which was still shaking from strain. Spencer had a better time hiding his embarrassment this time though with Edward's scars to fixate on.

"They're not ugly.." he murmurs. Nostalgia had actually hit the FBI agent hard, memories of childhood torment rushing back at him. He remembered every time he was bullied for being smarter than everyone else, something that still haunted him emotionally even today. The difference between them was that Edward had faced his problem, Spencer had just accepted it as something he had to deal with.

"Hey." The blonde snapped him from his thoughts. "You alright? I didn't mean to depress you with my sob story.." he apologizes, looking a bit guilty for the pathetic look on the brunette's face.

Spencer shakes his head. "No, it's fine. Just uh, a little nostalgic is all." The blonde gave him a thoughtful look. He had yet to see so much as a flaming mark on the pale man, still...

"Not the most loved guy on campus either huh?" He could tell by his face he too had been tortured. Maybe more so than he because he didn't exactly strike him as a defender of himself let alone anything else. He may have in voice once or twice but he probably took it all and cried about it later. Not that he blamed anyone who did. There were fighters and then there were normal people. Everyone dealt with the pain of the fucked up thing they called life differently. He'd cried a few times himself... Before he'd wrote songs and then hit something that is...

"Graduating high school at twelve didn't help matters..." That peaked Edward's interest.

"Twelve huh? Funny..." Spencer quirked a brow, signaling that the blonde needed to elaborate. "I was schooled privately at the orphanage until I was fourteen, then afterwards they recommended me to a university where I immediately began studies in the medical field. You can uh, imagine how that went over with the nuns when they found out. Studying evolution and such was part of the mandatory study, how we're all pretty much animals. Then again I was aiming to heal animals in the long run anyway. Still don't quite understand that part..." This was news to Reid. Someone who had gotten a college education around a similar age to him, and even went into a difficult field. Any sort of medicine was praise worthy, and animals were all different unlike a typical human doctor.

"Wait, if you went into the medical field, why did you open a hotel?" That seemed to be a complicated question for the blonde. And it was. He actually didn't talk about it much.

"Well, I graduated at 20 and started that year at a clinic and I was put pretty high on the list of importance there. But... right before I turned twenty one, I realized that even though I was being beneficial by healing and making people happier, I was making good money, and I was good at my job...I wasn't really... happy." He seemed to be lost in thought Spencer noticed, his brilliant orbs staring off into space, clouded with an emotion he couldn't quite place. "I quit. Made some money doing some modeling for a while, then I found my true passion singing at this club down the road. The stage was my entire world, my source of true happiness and contentment. Between that and selling some of my songs to major companies, I had enough to open this place as a hobby." Spencer found himself more intrigued by the male the more he learned, but his story made him think back to what he had seen on the screen in Garcia's office...Edward was only 28 years old. He also noticed something else, the intense stench of bodily odor. His nose scrunched if only slightly, just enough for the blonde to turn and give himself a sniff, making himself wince.

"Heh, guess I need a shower pretty bad huh?" His face, finally back to its normal color, had flushed once more in embarrassment. He hated smelling, unless it was of after sex...

"Probably." He didn't want to be rude, especially since he knew the reason for the man younger man's stench.

"Well, since my smell is so repulsive I think I'll go save you the agony to your nose." It was said in a teasing tone. He stood, running a towel over his face and down his neck and chest in a subtly provocative manner. It was then that Spencer noticed what he was wearing for the first time. His face flushed as he took in the jade boxers that hugged the fit man's lower half so snuggly, darkened from perspiration. He avoided looking at him then, his eyes betraying his body. Edward merely smirked. "You slept pretty late, once I'm all washed up I'll make you a gourmet Holmes Inn breakfast. Sound good?" His eyes were soft and kind, something that had Spencer feeling warm...

"Yeah, sounds good." Edward faded from view, heading upstairs to his room and leaving Spencer to his thoughts...

* * *

The blonde tossed his underwear into his hamper, continuing to his shower in the nude. He had the water nearly scalding, the liquid pouring over him and washing away his perspiration and opening his pores. The intense heat hit his aching muscles hard, but soon soothed them enough for him to give a groan of relief. His nerves had betrayed him today, but then he had done it on purpose after all. As he lathered his mint shampoo into his greased hair he felt himself stir in his lower regions.

"Damn it, I thought I'd taken care of that last night." He did his best to ignore the sensation, sticking his face head on into the stream of water. His extremeties throbbed however the longer he ignored it. He gave a grunt, reaching into his mouth and removing four white fake teeth, sticking his arm out and placing them onto the counter. He couldn't handle it, if he had one weakness, it was his neverceasing libido. He couldn't help it, it was as if his sex drive never took a break...

He held himself steady against wall with one hand, the spray meeting him head on as his other hand closed around his lower ten inches of masculinity. He began with a slow rhythm, moving his hand up and down as his teeth dug into his lip. He would see brown eyes looking up at him innocently through their lashes, persuading him to tend to himself in a rougher manner. He focused his attention at his base, adding extra pressure to it and lightly teasing the tip when he moved up. In minutes he was panting, his teeth breaking skin as heat pooled in his groin. "F-fuck..!" He felt his stomach tense and soon his hot excrement mixed with the water that was poundings at his body. Evidence of his labors were washed away, leaving him only with his throbbing lip and lower appendage.

Satisfied, he scrubbed himself down quickly with a bar of soap, mint green, making sure that every last inch of him was pleasant to his guest. To the eyes, and in smell. He stepped out of the shower with an ominous expression without meaning to, running the towel over his body quickly. He felt a disturbance upon his lower lip, and spared himself a glance in the mirror. His eyes were obscured by his hair that in its heaviness, hung like a curtain over his face. Blood trickled from his lip, red from where it had been punctured. His mouth partially open now he had a view of his teeth. Once perfect, his four canines now stood apart from the others obviously. They were sharp, unnaturally so, having been filed to a point years prior. He licked his lip, the red metallic liquid leaving a pleasing taste on his tongue. He loved that bittersweet taste very much.

He pulled on a pair of black jeans, hanging so low on his hips he needed a belt with emerald and black spikes on its buckle. He tugged on a matching t-shirt, also black and made of silk so that the fabric hugged his chiseled form. He slicked back his hair, not bothering to dry it and making it seem as if he had gelled it. Even slicked back it fell against the bottom of his neck. He replaced the caps over his teeth, making him seem to have his perfect smile once again as he tested it with his reflection. With the finishing touch of throwing on his silver chain necklace he headed downstairs, cracking his neck as he came into the kitchen. Luckily it seemed Spencer had returned to his room, so when he started rummaging through the freezer he wouldn't have noticed the red 'X' painted onto various packages of meats. He gave a small smirk and pulled out one of those, one in which the meat was sliced into thin strips...

He quickly fried them up, cracking some eggs into a skillet on the side. He was stacking up slices of toast as they finished browning along the way. Somehow he did all of this at once while making coffee for Spencer.

.

Upstairs Spencer could smell the wonderful aroma wafting through the rooms. He found himself following it downstairs with a pleased smile. When he reached the kitchen Edward was fixing a well proportioned plate and one that was excessively weighed down. He took a seat at the table for the second time since arriving at the hotel, feeling himself blush lightly when Edward smiled his way, that same crooked grin from the previous night. "Hope you like bacon and eggs," he says with a twinkle in his eye. He sat a plate before his guest as well as a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

"Thank you," Spencer says thoughtfully, taking a sip. "Mm, kind of has the same taste as my favorite coffee back home." The blonde flushes as he sits beside him, rubbing his neck nervously.

"Heh, lucky guess." He didn't need to mention he had done a little research last night on Doctor Spencer Reid. He was actually surprised his offering at the club the other night had been his regular back in Virginia at a library café. For the first time, Spencer watched Edward before he ate. He noticed that his eyes closed momentarily and his lips moved rapidly. It lasted only a couple minutes before he starting wolfing down eggs. So he prayed before eating, makes sense considering his background. What he didn't know is that it was a bit more habitual than that... His very soul depended on them.

Reid found himself digging in as well, the meat, though good, had a peculiar taste. "What kind of meat is this?" The blonde shrugs.

"Canadian. I order it specifically." He went directly back into his eating saying nothing else as Spencer simply nodded and continued on.

"It's delicious." The blonde smiles.

"Taste is a wonderful sense isn't it? Though our auditory, visual, and feeling capabilities can be tampered with and altered, only our taste and smell give us what is truly there. No matter the situation, everything has a definite taste or smell, it's simply our preferences that alter it. Taste, is my favorite." This made the agent think as the blonde sipped at some wine. There was definitely a great brain behind that beautiful face. Maybe, he could learn something from this New York heartthrob...

* * *

_Oooh, such a chapter of diverse emotions. A bit of a dark side to our blonde hunk. Not only that but we got that sweet touchy moment between the two geniuses. How do you guys feel about knowing that Edward and Reid shared similar backgrounds? Or that he was once a doctor? Of course then we had a hot steamy ( pun intended ) shower scene with young Hopkins. ;) Sorry but not sorry. That's why the story's rated M. What's the deal with Edward's desire to push himself? His teeth? Leave your thoughts and ideas in reviews kiddies for we shall see who can piece these things together, and I haven't even listed all the clues here ;) Until next time!_


	6. Chapter 6

_EDITED AND REVISED _

_Before you say anything I've been trapped in a blizzard here at home for four days and I literally fell into a fifteen hour coma yesterday so it's not completely my laziness that delayed this latest installment! Plus I had to update a Naruto fic because it had been much longer than this one since it was updated. Plus the closer to finishing one I get with these, the closer I am to starting another one! Anywho, I'd like to make a few shout outs since I was unable to last time._

_**TazzieLuv13:** lol yes Spency is indeed infatuated but then again who wouldn't be? Also, we've already discussed this but I absolutely love your brain! I adore the whole, my fantasy mind says vampire or werewolf bit. Too cute and too true if this were a fantasy fic lol. Your rational brain though is quite a bit more believable and even though I'd like to elaborate I don't much care for spoilers so NOPE! :P Thanks for the continued support though trooper!_

_**Ttalgi:** Be patient sweetheart! All good lemons to those who waits. The sexy love must be preceded by character development and actual plot! Also for the same reasons I gave Tazzie I shall not delve deep into the topic of review unless you demand it in private because like I said, spoilers are satan and cliffhangers keep audiences! _

_Also my boyfriend made his account on here today and I'm so proud of him! He's going to start off small by delving into a rewrite of Dragonball Z so if you like action and philosophical thinking that will be a definite thing for you to check out once he gets started. I'll be being his beta so as to help get him started but I'm really excited! His pen name is Excizor so once he gets started please give him a little support. Much thanks to all of you that make this possible. And so with "You're Gonna Go Far Kid" by the Offspring in my head, chapter six!_

* * *

**Double Threat**

Spencer had managed to finish breakfast within the hour no thanks to the captivating conversation he was having with Edward. The blonde had graciously taken his plate and washed it in front of him despite Spencer offering to help, he had figured out that the innkeeper was very adamant in doing for himself in the kindest manner the gruff yet gentle man could muster. He liked to feel in control but also didn't want others to do things he could easily do for them. It was an odd mix of traits but attractive nonetheless. Spencer found himself being brewed another espresso, courtesy of Edward once more. He was ranting on about the extreme importance of the arts, a topic he seemed especially passionate about. Edward himself hadn't even realized he was ranting. He was too caught up in the relieving feeling of having someone who listened, actually listened.

"The feeling one experiences when they pour out their very soul into the music they create is truly a pleasure fit for heaven itself. I mean, the way emotions just come pouring through your being is like nothing on this earth let me tell ya. The only possible way to describe it is like sex, but the kind you have with someone you can't live without. Like if you were to give that one thing up, you'd be killing off a part of yourself that you just can't afford to lose. It's as if you're in a completely different realm for the moment, and everything for that short moment, is perfect."

Spencer loved hearing him talk, he never had a boring word to say. He always seemed to say things that even though had never piqued the genius' interest before, roused new interest in him now. Something about the way he spoke, the feeling he put into his words, it made emotions stir within the brunette.

The blonde was leaning back against the counter, rubbing and kneading at his neck in agitation, no doubt from his grueling workout. But no matter the pain he saw the younger man go through he always seemed to replace it with a smile, as if the pain was something he was accustomed to feeling, but he somehow embraced it as if he enjoyed it...

"It's weird ya know, having someone in the house. I'm so used to talking to myself it's almost hard to register I have an audience now heh," he muses. Spencer found himself smiling again.

"I know the feeling. It's certainly different not noting things aloud to an empty room." The two men shared a chuckle together, feeling relaxed in one another's company. It was a rare thing the the blonde 28 year old bachelor felt only once in a blue moon.

"Heh, so Spencer, who has the pleasure of welcoming you home at the end of the day?" the blonde asks with a raised brow. At this the agent tenses.

"I live alone. Have since I moved out of my mother's home at eighteen." The blonde cocks his head in wonder, noting the change in posture.

"No girlfriend or anything?" He notices the brunette's eyes falling on the floor and seeming to go blank, noting that to be a look of someone remembering something that changed them...he often had that same look in his eyes. He shifted against the counter, gently nudging the older man with his elbow. "Hey, if you don't want to talk anymore it's fine. Just the fact that you've indulged me this long is a blessing," he says with a kind smile. Wait, what the hell was he doing? He was supposed to be seducing him. Oh wait... That's what he **wanted** to do. Never mind he was trying to get chummy.

Spencer didn't know how to respond, he was just recovering from the loss of Maeve after all this time, he had overcome the dream he had of dancing with her, he was on the track to being normal again. Could he explain to Edward what had happened to swear him off relationships forever? It was a touchy subject, but the innkeeper made it hard to say no with his passive attitude toward the subject and genuine gratitude for conversation. He licks his lips. "It's just, not a story I like telling.." The blonde, still smiling that charming smile, shrugs.

"Like I said, it's your business and if you want to keep it in the confines of yourself then that's fine by me. I really do just enjoy your company though. You're not like other people Spencer Reid..."

Spencer was speechless, and before he could muster any sort of recognizable speech, his phone went off in his pocket. "E-excuse me.." He flips it open, speaking into the device anxiously. "Spencer Reid."

_"Spencer!"_ He recognized that voice...

"James?"

_"Spencer! We need ya ASAP! Down on third and Main and I hope to god you ain't ate!"_

"Woah, slow down, what happened?" He sits up and turns to begin pacing the room, his attention focused on what could've possibly made the Brooklyn police deputy so riled up.

_"It's so fucked up! We got a body down here that looks like it went on a hell of a ride last night! You're just gonna have to see it to believe it! Ya need me to come getcha?"_

Just as Spencer was about to open his mouth he noticed Edward standing by him with a look that told him to hold off on a reply. He nodded to the phone, making Spencer note that the volume was high enough that he could hear the coversation. Then whispering just loud enough for the brunette to hear he made him an offer. "If he's already there I have no problem with running you by the site. It'll be quicker and more convenient." And of course it would be beneficial for him to get as close to the investigation as possible...

The agent had to open and close his mouth a few times, much like a suffocating fish, before he actually considered the offer. He was right, it would be easier and they needed all the major officers at the scene with their undivided attention...

"Actually James, I have a ride. I'll get there as fast as I possibly can."

_"So long as you can get here. See ya in a few man."_ The man hung up hurriedly and Spencer knew this had to be relevant to the case by the way things were going. Another victim courtesy of the Ripper just three days after his broadcast to the country. God he felt older than he was...

The blonde noticed the stress immediately settle in over the brunette's features after the call ended, watching his thin, feminine hands drag over his face as he released an exasperated sigh. He didn't like seeing him tense like that. It was unattractive on a handsome face.

"You need to grab anything before we go?" he asks, grabbing keys from a hook by the doorframe leading to the foyer.

"Yeah, just some essentials from my bag. I have to hurry though, they're pretty frantic over there. It's got to be pretty horrific..." The blonde nods, his inner excitement channeled into a stern look.

"If you have to get there that fast we can take my bike." The brunette immediately snaps to attention then.

"B-Bike?" he stammers. He nods.

"Black 2010 GSXR. It's my pride and joy really. Can go from twenty to eighty five in three seconds flat. We'd get there faster and could avoid all that traffic." The way he said it, the idea seemed exotic and provocative, but Spencer Reid was neither of those things. The very thought had him shivering in fear. He had never been an adrenaline junkie and he didn't plan on making the transition anytime soon. He was deathly afraid of bikes and most people he knew were aware of that. He had to stop though and think about what the best option was for him to better do his job. Once more Edward was making a good point and was only trying to help him out in the best way he knew how, like he'd been doing since yesterday. It would be rude to just tell him he was crazy because of a stupid fear, but of course over 4,000 people die in motorcycle accidents every year, record being 5,209... So it would be unreasonable to say the fear was stupid...

For reasons unfathomable to him the agent nodded, deciding that this case was far too important to push to the back burner. He then rushed upstairs to get his things before heading back down to find Edward again. The blonde noticed as he left the look of terror in his eyes at the mention of his baby in the garage. He hadn't meant to scare him like that but it was his best bet at getting to the crime scene in the next ten minutes. He had to admit though he wasn't expecting something like this to happen. Spencer was the only real pleasant surprise here and that was still debatable... Still, he felt himself admiring the older man whenever he could, something he rarely did anymore... He shook his head, fist knocking his temple hard.

"Focus... It's been three days and I couldn't make my move because of the agent. So the only one who could've done this is..." He growled to himself, hands tensing and relaxing in a sort of beat. "That amateur is getting on my last nerve..."

Once the FBI agent returned he ushered him to the garage, locking up as he went. When the doors opened he found himself proud to see Spencer gawking at the bike he so loved, as well as his other vehicle. Honestly the brunette hadn't expected to see a green Mustang GT500, sunroof open, and a shade of the color so closely resembling the taller man's unique eyes. It was a beautiful car, definitely fitting for the personality of its owner. His own brown eyes fell on the crotch rocket very quickly however when it came time to mount the death trap. It was indeed sleek black and was very well kept he noticed. He half expected someone like Edward to love sports cars and bikes though, just because he had the typical outgoing demeanor and masculine personality. Nonetheless he stopped just short of the machine, not eager to even get near it...

Edward noticed his hesitancy and felt a smile coming on. It's was pretty hot to see him so intimidated by a motorbike. The mere thought of the man on a crotch rocket of all things, arms wrapped around his torso, made his loins burn. He knew this was all scary for Spencer, even though that wasn't something he really enjoyed as much he still couldn't help himself. He wanted him to be comfortable around him though... He reached for his one black helmet, offering it to the agent cautiously. When he only looked down at the garment, unsure, Edward's eyes softened. "Spencer, take the helmet." He could see the brunette swallow heavily, obviously reluctant about the situation still.

"Y-you should w-wear your own h-helmet..." he tries to argue, but Hopkins was having none of it.

"Spencer your life means more than mine. I trust my own skills with a bike but I never trust the swarms of asshats in this godforsaken city. If something does happen I'm making sure you come out of it okay? I swear on my life, that I will NOT let anything happen to you. Do you trust me on that?" The shorter man was left speechless, gaping up at the male who was so ready to lay his life down at his expense. He'd never been one for promising such things himself, especially in his line of work where nothing was ever certain until the moment the bad guy was caught, but Edward seemed to have no problem saying it so confidently, the words cascading from his lips like nectar. His kind, otherworldly eyes holding sincerity in their depths wasn't helping either. Then again the blonde really was that confident in his skills that he wasn't worried about an accident. There were no laws saying he had to wear one, but the act seemed to soothe the older man.

He found himself reaching for the safety gear, his eyes never leaving the younger man for an instant. The blonde took his acceptance of the helmet as a yes to his question and smiled, swinging a leg over the bike and mounting it with ease. There was little room left on the seat but luckily Spencer was smaller than Edward so he would fit. He settled the helmet over his head, tucking his hair back as he did so and hesitantly approached the bike. "Just put your hands on my shoulders and swing your leg over," Edward coaxes. He licks his pale lips and nods, doing as he's told and settling into the seat. It was a tight fit and he could feel Edward leaning forward off the seat to give him room. "Now put your hands on my waist." At this the brunette flushes. "You have to hold on tight if we're gonna speed through this." With a gulp Spencer places his hands on the silk clad waist of the man driving, holding tight as he revved the bike to life. "Hold on." He commands. The wheels screech as they lurch forward out of the garage and into the street, twisting and weaving around cars as they head in their desired direction. Edward had definite prowess with the machine, exceeding the speed limit without ever coming into a dangerous situation. He stopped but once at a pedestrian crossing where Spencer took the opportunity to wrap his arms fully around the male in a vice grip, clinging for dear life. Which Edward wouldn't deny was very satisfying.

.

Colsen was holding a rag over his face, the smell was absolutely horrid, more so than any other decaying body he'd ever had the displeasure of witnessing in his years with the department. How in the hell something so horrible and grotesque occurred right in an alleyway between two highly populated buildings was still unfathomable to the deputy. The ground was hardly reminiscent to earth anymore, more of a mound of chum than anything else. He'd never thought the human body could have so much in it... Innards were scattered everywhere within a block's radius, including a kidney that had been sloppily cut into the shape of a heart. The stomach had been nailed to one of the surrounding brick walls, like some sick decoration. Intestines lay about, tied into bows here and there. And then of course there were puddles of vomit riddling the sidewalk thanks to many a officers losing what lunch they had eaten that afternoon. The vast array of blood and guts was more than most grown men could handle and not a single female officer had been permitted into the scene in consideration of their feelings towards the young victim found in such a manner. They could just make out her blonde hair under the blackened blood and just vaguely could her breasts be seen to confirm gender. Other than that it was almost impossible to determine her identity until they could get dental records, seeing as her fingers were badly mutilated. Chief Warren himself had to blockade the area so as to make sure no civilians stumbled upon the terrible scene, windows were blacked out for the residents of the surrounding buildings. Officers were scrambling around with their cameras and gloves, looking for any signs of evidence, but once again they were coming up empty handed, nothing new in this godforsaken case. Warren was about at his limit with bodies like this popping up.

"Where the hell is that Reid guy?!" he grumbles in frustration.

"I just called him sir, it's only been about ten minutes."

"Jesus, if we're gonna have any chance o' catchin' this freak we need him here.." Just as he finished cops outside the plastic tent started yelling, soon covered by the screeching of tires and the roar of a motor that seemed to stop at their feet. "The hell is that?!" The chief and his deputy immediately begin rushing out to the street, only to nearly knock down a flustered FBI agent in the process of fumbling to hold up his badge. "Damn it Reid you scared us half to death! We thought there mighta been a crash on scene!" The brunette immediately began apologizing as the officers let him pass, his cheeks still flaming.

"How'd ya get here so quick Spencer? I just called ya ten minutes ago!"

"SIR I'M SORRY BUT WE CANT LET YOU PASS THIS IS A POLICE CRIME SCENE!" The two policemen focused their attention behind the FBI agent to see a tall built blonde being held back as he obviously tried to cross the police tape. He seemed to anyone watching, just a curious man fascinated with a tragedy, but he gave the chief of police an uneasy feeling.

"The hell is this guy?" Warren snaps. Spencer immediately springs to attention, swirling around to motion the officers aside in a panic.

"Sorry! Sorry he's with me!" Reluctantly the two men let him by and once again he's asked who the blonde is. "This is my current landlord and my ride here Chief, I'm sorry for the intrusion but he is the reason I got here so fast." Colsen took a moment to survey the source of the commotion earlier, the black motorcycle, and practically melted at the sight of the beautiful machine.

"Damn! Talk about a smoking ride." The blonde seemed pleased with the reaction and gave a prideful smirk. His superior wasn't about to waste time talking about mechanics however. He ordered them inside, not bothering to waste his breath trying to be rid of the unwelcome civilian. Spencer put on some gloves and handed some to his companion just in case he touched something as well, and braced himself for the scene before him. No amount of preparation however could've kept him from gagging on sight. He felt himself grimacing and his stomach lurching as he tried to avoid looking at the one displayed on the wall. He had seen his fair share of corpses but this one definitely took the cake in gore. The smell of decaying flesh hit him like a wall and his instincts kicked into overdrive. There was a faint odor besides the obvious stench lingering in the air, something sickly sweet. Upon taking a reluctant closer look, he realized it was because the body, empty of organs and some bones, had been filled with the petals of fully bloomed roses to the point of overflowing, blending perfectly with the scarlet blood around them. His take on the scene instantly changed.

"Well, it would seem we're definitely dealing with the Ripper Replicator. Hollowed body, filled with rose petals, organs used almost as offerings..." He was honestly surprised that he was the first of the two killers to strike after the whole ordeal Saturday. He had expected the real Ripper to go on a spree, daring the authorities to catch up to him. Yet he had been inactive for almost three days and the first major murder was by his admirer. Then again, they were hundreds missing that were suspected of being victims to the Ripper, so it's possible that he's been at large and they simply hadn't discovered any bodies...

"Are ya any closer to catching these sons of bitches yet? I'd like to be able to tell the family of whoever this poor girl was that we're gonna catch the bastard that carved their daughter up like a jack o' lantern. I mean hell! The on scene examiner can't even identify what's what here!" Said examiner seems to prove that point by lifting a piece of flesh with bloodied tongs, giving it a questioning glance.

"Put that under uh...liver..." he tells his assistant.

"I wouldn't!" the blonde suddenly interrupts. All eyes shift towards him momentarily, taking in his rather relaxed demeanor. He had his arms crossed over his broad chest and was balancing on one foot by propping the other against his leg. He seemed indifferent to the corpse before them-

No, he had a little emotion in his expression. It resembled disgust, but not in the way you'd expect. There was disappointment, and there was also annoyance. "Edward..."

"And just who do you think you are?" Warren snaps, obviously not fond of the blonde as of the moment. "You seem cool as a cucumber in the presence of the dead." His emerald eyes leave the body for a moment to glance at the chief, a tan hand offering itself to him.

"Edward Hopkins, ex veterinarian. Call me Ed if you like," he greets respectfully. The older man does not shake his hand so the the blonde merely shrugs and retracts it. "I primarily worked with animals but I made a lot of friends in college that I visited over the years. One showed me a similar body in the hospital morgue about... Exactly seven years eight months ago. Plus working in surgery and dissecting in my school years pretty much made me immune to the reactions of blood and body contents, so that should answer you inquiry as to why I seem unaffected. I am, because I was taught to be for the sake of my work."

Thats right, Edward was an ex-doctor, even if it was with animals. He saw organs and blood everyday for a period of his life. The little bit about visiting friends that worked in morgues was something new to the agent though. Nevertheless he was slightly more at ease with an explanation for the blonde's behavior. The chief wasn't convinced but had no time to retort before Colsen spoke up. "Why'd ya say 'I wouldn't!' for?" Spencer also wanted to hear this.

"Hm? Oh, right. Well that's not a piece of liver. The tissue is rougher and more mal colored. Plus the edging is jagged so if I'm not mistaken it's the scraps from the decorative kidney over there," he says nonchalantly, jerking a thumb towards the heart shaped tissue on the ground. The examiner seemed to hold up the sample and mentally debated it before dead panning.

"Stupid! How did I not see that?!"

"Common mistake when samples are that mangled," he soothes. The deputy seemed impressed, as did Spencer. Warren was still on edge with the blonde though, brushing off his deduction without a second thought.

"Nice Ed," Colsen praises with a pat to his back. "Damn you're tall..." Just then Spencer got an idea.

"Chief, do you think it would be alright if Edward helped out in this investigation? With the medical squad of course."

"Excuse me? This guy has no forensic training whatsoever!"

"Actually a certificate in forensic science is fairly easy to acquire over the Internet and over 90 percent of test takers pass the exam. In other words it's not difficult to become qualified for the job," Edward chimes in, fueling the fire against him. "Honestly I'd love to help out. It actually sounds exciting and I feel like I could actually be of assistance. I do have a declarative memory as well so feel free to run anything by me for filing purposes later on. I'm no Sherlock but I know a few out of the box facts that could help out..." The chief gave him a glare, weighing his options despite his gut instinct. This case was going nowhere, if civilian help is what it took to get results...then by God he didn't have much of a choice did he?!

"The first time ya cause me trouble, I swear there won't be a soul in the world rich enough to even post yer bail..." Edward nods, bowing his head lightly as he takes careful steps toward the corpse and the examiner, a smirk spreading across his features when his face was no longer visible to them. He crouches by the male's side and immediately begins spouting off the condition of the samples being taken, giving him time of death, and even a hypothesis as to how the attack happened.

Spencer found himself in awe as he watched the younger man acting as if he'd been doing this his whole life. He could sense the chief's hostility towards him and took it to just be the threat of someone new mingling with his task force. Edward was harmless though, a kind man with misunderstood thought processes...like him. He glanced over at the blonde every now and then as he discussed possible leads with Warren and Colsen, no witnesses surprisingly, no admittances of any disturbances the previous evening, the only lead they had was the old man who had stumbled on the scene some hours earlier when going for a walk. Like his idol, the Copy Cat Killer, as the force was now calling him, left no incriminating evidence despite his more extreme methods. Of course the Ripper by name itself was one for mutilation, but his protégée took it to whole new levels by incorporating his adoration in his killings, hence the rose petals and the cutting of organs into the shape of a heart. He needed to start a second profile. God this was going to be a long case...

.

"You alright back there Spencer?" Edward coos from the front of the bike.

"I-I'm fine, still not used to this is all..." He was sitting statue still in the seat as they awaited the light to turn green. They hadn't been in the big rush they had while heading to the crime scene, Edward now took his time getting back, following every rule of the road religiously, no pun intended there... The agent still had his arms wrapped around the blonde's thick waist, causing his cheeks to ignite every time he thought of it, which was every time they stopped or moved all of a sudden. He also felt bad though, because Edward was never completely seated on the bike, he was constantly hovering and leaning forward to give him comfortable room. He felt like a burden despite being assured that he wasn't. He saw the way the blonde trembled however and knew he was struggling every second of the way, he had really pushed himself that morning after all. He could see him being extremely sore after everything that had happened that day.

"Don't you worry about me, happens all the time." Somehow he didn't doubt that... They drove on, getting stuck almost immediately at another light, making the blonde groan. He was getting a bit tired of it himself too. Not to mention he was exhausted...

"Check out the faggots!"

The blonde immediately groaned while Spencer braced for what would come their way.

Spencer doesn't bother turning his head, it would only encourage the post pubescent boys in the sewer green jeep to continue with their childish antics. He actually wasn't sure how they'd managed to go this long without attracting unwanted attention. He realized how the situation looked, two men, one significantly more masculine than the other, on a motorcycle, one with his arms around the other... The comment was to be expected. Edward, usually so cool, tensed in his grasp though, prompting him to believe he was probably in no mood for this. He couldn't see his face, but imagined it was trained firmly ahead on the road.

He would've been wrong. His expression shifted automatically from calm and collected, to near scary. His brows furrowed as the driver of the jeep continued his unneeded taunts, his hair that had dried while slicked back beginning to fall back into its original style, hanging over his eyes. "Take a look at the scrawny one! He's totally the bitch of the relationship!"

"Yeah but check out that big guy! Guess we should be lucky he's out of the game with chicks huh?!" The blonde smirked, his eyebrow twitching at the comments and his teeth grinding. He could practically feel the hurt radiating from the man behind him, infuriating him to no end. He hated bullies, he hated them with a passion. With his right hand still firmly clenched on the handlebar, he slides his left hand discreetly down to his hip, lifting his gaze to the boys without fully turning his head.

His malicious grin was forced to seem semi pleasant as his emerald glare narrowed on the group of four, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Excuse me kids, but you're supposed to respect your elders. You might want to apologize for being so rude," he says in a voice strained into pleasantry just loud enough for them to hear over the distance between them and the roar of the engines. The ringleader, the driver, scoffs at this and rolls his eyes back at his companions.

"You believe this guy? 'Excuse me kids! Respect your elders!' " he mocks.

"They think they're so much older than us that they need respect!" another adds with a snort. "Fucking fudge packers!"

As the words pass from his lips the boy instantly regrets them. The pair of otherworldly orbs shoots to him with a coldness that had him shuddering upon contact, burning into him with negative energy that made him shut his mouth fairly quickly while his friends kept going. Their words soon stopped too however when, just loud enough to be heard, the blonde cuts them off in a sickly sweet voice that although filled with a sugary tone, implied dark intentions with it's unappealing words.

"I'm gonna make one thing clear here piss ants, I'm a gentleman despite what you may think. Rarely do I ever disrespect others unless they deserve it, and frankly, you do. Long story short I'm not in the fucking mood to be mocked by the failed end of the genetics code nor do I wish to put up with your bullshit. I'm trying to soothe my dear tenant here with decent care after the sight he just had to endure and with that being said I'd prefer you not insult him since obviously you're about as deep as a kiddie pool. Back. The fuck. Off. Or I sure as hell will show the world what pretending badasses you really are and I'm sure you want to keep your innards inside your bodies. **Right**?" As if to accentuate his 'point' he gives them a quick flash of the blade of his pocket knife now protruding from his pocket. "Oh, and I'm bisexual, bitches." Now frantic and struck by cold sweats the boys start slapping their driver to go, ignoring the red light entirely and speeding off from their position beside the bike. Tucking the blade away and replacing his expression with a cheerful facade and bright smile, he calls after the receding car as it swerves through traffic. "Have a nice day!" Spencer looks up at him questioningly, having only heard the beginning and end of what he'd said. He mentally slapped himself for not trying to stop the boys from driving so recklessly but that wasn't his job and this wasn't Virginia. He wondered though, what Edward could've possibly said to them to make them back off the way they did. As they started moving again and soon pulled into the garage, he found himself thinking on it a little more...

"Here." Edward was offering his hand to help him off the bike and with a blush he took it. He was surprised once more when the blonde continued by retrieving the helmet from his head gently, making him mutter a small thank you. "I have to head straight to work or I'll be late, so I'm sorry you'll have to heat up leftovers for dinner."

The agent shakes his head. "That's fine, I understand. Um, about what time do you think you'll be back?" he asks timidly.

"Ah, shouldn't be too late unless there's a huge crowd, then Owl will probably want me to stay and help with orders. You gonna be alright by yourself? I should warn you, I'd stay out of the basement. I've been taking in strays lately and if they don't trust you they'll bite. Wouldn't want to have to administer an emergency tetanus shot on you." Spencer nods at this new information, glad he hadn't got too far exploring this morning before reaching the basement. Now that he thought about it he did hear some barking down there the previous night...

The blonde adjusted his getup so as to be job ready, taking notice that the older of the two was being worryingly quiet... "You okay there?" Brown eyes flickered up to him momentarily and he instantly saw the hurt behind them.

"I'm fine, just uh, thinking about those boys back at the intersection..." The blonde tensed up in anger or regret he couldn't tell, turning on his heel and stretching his limbs for the walk.

"Look," he says without looking at him. "So long as I'm around, no one will talk to you like that again. I promise. If there's one thing I hate, it's damn bullies..." With that he headed down the driveway, leaving a stunned and speechless Reid standing in the entrance.

God Edward needed to hit something. Soon.

* * *

_Whew! That took forever! Totally worth it though. Left some more little hints for you guys this chapter, all subtle but some more out there than others. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it. Oh and I'd love to hear about your guys' Valentine's Day fun ;) Mine consisted with some nice cozy bed time with my boyfriend so I hope you had nice days of unconditional love as well. Reviews and comments totally welcome! Until next time darlings! ^_^_


	7. Chapter 7

_EDITED AND REVISED _

_Hello! So so so so so sorry for the delay! So busy! Had a concussion! Had prom! Had exams! I died and was revived! Please don't hurt me! Totally am using the basis of this story for a murder mystery I have to have for forensics though ;) Anyway..._

_TazzieLuv13: we discussed your Valentines Day in private so to get to the fic... Omg I know right?! Gotta love how he has that dominant personality with almost everyone but still manages that young youthful innocence. Yeah maybe the innards comment was a little extreme but hey, if it works it works. Like how you think though, he and Garcia already seem like good friends right? And just yes, testosterone overload when put in a room with Derek but they're both jut so chill! Enough fangirling though, I must go on..._

_I.C.2014: I'm glad you enjoy and you know, I actually never thought much about comparing my characters to modern movie depicted killers but you know if you think about it they were modeled after real life serial killers. Hannibal Lecter was slightly based off of Ed Gein as was Norman Bates but with different aspects being focused on. In a way I was kind of incorporating my knowledge real serial killers to this fic too though so that's actually not inaccurate, at least not completely. Not the comparisons I would've made but still, that's not bad. Just means your imagination is different :)_

_Without torturing you much longer I give to you chaoter seven of Wine, Roses, and Psychosis! Enjoy!_

* * *

**Similarities **

_He watched with great pleasure at his doings as she writhed and squirmed beneath him, her pretty face red from anxiety, embarrassment, and his favorite... Complete and utter terror. What the screams of the innocent could do to a man he thought, it set a spark in him he could barely contain. She was exposed, nude. Her arms bound above her head on both sides, legs spread and chained down. Violet and blue patches riddled her flesh, lacerations here and there keeping her weak and vulnerable to anything he wished to do to her. He filled her, pounded into her, imagined he was with his one love...his idol._

_"You'll never be him," he growls through grunts as he finishes with her. He shoved away from the metal table she laid on, frustration apparent on him. He ran his hands over his face, that same question that always plagued him returning as he lifted a photograph to his face. Depicted was a true work of art, a woman beautiful, laying upon the asphalt with sandy hair spread behind her, butterfly tattoo apparent below her collarbone. A perfect 'Y' had been engraved into her torso with a coarse blade, the cuts clean and careful. Carved with care... He glanced back at his prize, noting her hair to be the same length and that the tattoo above her cleavage was nearly identical despite being colored in. He smiled softly, teeth showing as he nodded and went to paper and pen. He would know..._

_He enjoyed wrapping the cloth around her head so that she bit down on the fabric while she tried to scream. He drew the blade over her skin as he got off on her pain, her form twitching as it was mutilated while she breathed still..._

_It had taken some minutes but he had gotten her positioned just right, gathered her pesky binds and left her remains for the world to see. Surely he would stumble upon them, he was the master after all, the grand artist. He bent to her side and placed his note within her mouth, only the corner sticking out before dumping petals of red into her open body. His own words rang through his head even as he left the scene, excitement coursing through him._

* * *

The local star didn't get off work until later than he expected, by the time he returned home it was already two in the morning. He was actually suppressing his eagerness to get back the whole walk there. In all honesty the job was quite taxing on the days they were booming like they had that evening. His voice strained after so long and he grew tired of always having to be up and about. He was already sore from his workout that morning so he had every right to be exhausted and upset but he acknowledged that he was to blame for his condition. It was necessary in the end though. He shot his fist into the couch in the employee lounge a few times once he was at work. He locked up the hotel when he returned and just dropped his keys on the floor and kicked off his boots with a great desire to get to bed. The trek up the stairs proved too difficult in the end though and he shrugged with a mumbled 'fuck it'. He dropped onto the couch in the foyer and let out a deep sigh, falling asleep to his own humming.

* * *

Spencer was awoken the next morning by the ringing of his phone at his head, sending him into an upright position immediately. He looked to the clock that read 12:08 pm... He'd slept past noon again. With a silent scold to himself he dug his phone from under his pillow and put it to his ear. "S-Spencer Reid..." he murmured groggily.

'Wakey wakey Spence. You're not gonna believe this but we got another body on the edge of the park...it's not as messy but it's still pretty horrendous...' He huffed in dread and frustration, another so soon? It hadn't been a day since the last kill. Wait...

"Ripper or Copycat?" he asks slightly clearer.

'Looking at the list of characteristics you gave for the Copycat we're thinking it's him. He's starting to give us more trouble than the Ripper.' Spencer nodded, breathing heavily whilst he shook his head.

"I'll be there soon..." He hung up and got dressed as quickly as he could in his half sleeping state, half buttoning his dark green shirt in a sloppy manner and combing through his hair. He grabbed his badge, gun, and the like and headed downstairs, not noticing that his landlord's door was wide open and his bed empty. To his surprise he didn't see him in the workout room. When he arrived downstairs he stopped at hearing a strange sound, looking over to the couch and having his heart jump from the start.

Draped over the arm and laying over most of the cushions was the built blonde, hair messy and hanging over his face as light snores escaped his parted lips. He looked as if he'd been thrown down like a coat after a long day. He couldn't help but smile somewhat, finding it somehow pleasant to see him sleeping like that. It was kind of funny. It was then to his disappointment that he realized he once again needed a ride, meaning he would have to ruin the blonde's blissful sleep. He hated to but he needed to leave then...

He approached the sleeping man quietly, leaning down and hesitantly poking his shoulder as if daring to touch a ticking bomb. "E-Edward?" he whispers loudly. To his surprise he actually felt the man stir, his mouth closing and his muscles twitching much to the agent's embarrassment. He moved his face into the cushion and started shifting into a crouching position, long legs pulling back over the armrest and moving under him. With an inhale his green eyes blinked open slowly and heavily, followed by a loud yawn. When he looked up at Spencer he could see the dark shadows under his eyes, he looked exhausted and it made his heart heavy that it was partially from having to run him to a crime scene. He felt no better when the younger man managed a smile pointed softly up at him, moving into a sitting position.

"Hey... Mmm, what time is it champ?" he groans sleepily as he runs a hand over his eyes. The action was kind of sexy really...

"T-twenty after noon..." he mumbles. The innkeeper took a minute or two to analyze the agent, seeing he was clad in his equipment. Even in his delirious state he put two and two together, smiling at him.

"Need a ride Doctor?" A nod. "Alright...sorry, I didn't mean to sleep in so long, it was a rough night. Customers in and out until almost one," he goes on, standing and raising his arms high above his head in a stretch that had cracks resonating from his back and shoulders, continuing when he rolled his neck around. Spencer said nothing on the matter, he had only woke up not long before to his shock. The new atmosphere was getting to him and this case wasn't helping. As Edward was getting ready to head out he looked to the smaller male. "Sorry I left you with leftovers last night, feeling pretty bad for it..."

"It's fine. It was good as usual," he assured with a soft smile. Edward loved his smile, no matter how subtle... It was charming. He had to mentally smack himself though, this man was making him soft.

"Let me go down and feed the dogs real quick and I'll drive you over," he exhales, slinking to the cupboard below the counter and retrieving a bunch of dried treats from a bag. He gave another yawn as he started back towards the lobby and went to the basement door. Spencer was tempted to follow and make sure he didn't fall down the stairs but he remembered that Edward said they were strays and that they bit strangers they didn't trust. He didn't exactly attract animals so he decided to just wait at the top. Meanwhile downstairs, Edward opened one of two doors at the bottom hall, scratching being heard even as he turned the handle. As soon as there was a gap six dogs scrambled out and started pawing at him and jumping up to get at their food, whimpering and barking as the blonde alternated between petting them and adjusting their spiked collars. There was a Pit Bull, a German Shepard, a Doberman, a Chocolate Labrador, a Rottweiler, and an Australian Shepard. One by one he gave them the big pieces of dried treats and gave some clicks with his tongue and pointed back into the room where they started filing back in. Giving a sigh and going back up he smiled to Spencer at the top.

"Hm, well let's get going. Can't let Chief Hardass chew you out too much because of me." He grabbed his keys off the floor and held the door open for Spencer, his grin crooked in that special way.

"It wouldn't really be your fault," he says, heading to the garage.

"Ah, well he doesn't seem to like me too much as it is. I think I creep him out."

"I find it more likely that you intimidate him. You are young, attractive and smart, it makes sense that you being able to help with the case that's been wrenching his brain for so long would be a blow to his pride."

Edward smirked at this and opened the door to his mustang nodding for Spencer to get in. He didn't trust himself on the bike today. "Really? You think I'm attractive?" he teases with a suave voice. He saw how Spencer's cheeks immediately flushed when he realized what he'd said. "Well now, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't flattered by the compliment Agent Reid." Reid flushed and was eager to get in if nothing else to hide his embarassment when suddenly Edward put a hand on his shoulder and turned him.

"W-what?" he stammers. His heart skipped a beat when suddenly calloused fingers ran down his front. Pink lips were upturned in a sideways grin that was gentle yet impish.

"As much as I'm liking the view here Doctor..." he mumurs, "I think it's best you dress properly for a case..." Glancing down he looked at the half done buttons on the brunette's shirt, admiring the pale chest it failed to cover with glazed eyes. The agent looked down and to the side, hiding his face as tanned fingers expertly buttoned him up and brushed his soft skin. The blonde frowned slightly, leaning down to attempt to meet the older man's gaze. "Hey... If I make you uncomfortable, all you have to do is say so and I'll stop..." he coos softly.

He wasn't sure how to say he wanted him to continue with his actions and speak that way more often without sounding too weird... So he settled with one of his typical responses. "I know... I promise I'll tell you if that ever happens..." He meant that so it wasn't a lie. He got a nod in return and he felt that was the end of the awkward situation that was forming. He slid into the passenger side as Edward got in, opening the sunroof as he settled. This was a relief to Reid as they pulled out and he told Edward where to go.

"He's getting bolder and bolder. There was a great possibility he could've been caught last time but now he's left a victim in a highly populated tourist site. It's not an evolution I want to see," he says.

"It is rather odd, that's a major jump to make in just twenty four hours. You think he's been through something recently that's making him act out so radically like this?"

"Has to, I don't see why he would escalate like this otherwise. He was already following the Ripper, maybe the broadcast had a bigger impact on him than we originally thought..."

"If that's the case then the question is 'what was said in that broadcast that made him so confident the Ripper wanted his help'?"

"Exactly..."

They arrived on scene to a crowd bigger than the one the previous day, it looked like the park and every block around it had been blocked off. Even the parking lot was restricted to the point Spencer had to show ID just for Edward to park close. As soon as they parked the blonde caught sight of the elder chief glaring his way, taking a hint and giving an irate scowl. "I don't think I'll be welcome this time around... You go on..."

The brunette looked concerned as he stopped halfway out the door. "This is going to take a while, are you sure you'll be okay sitting out here for so long?"

"Hehe I'll be fine, I'm a big boy. Just because I'm not popular in the sandbox doesn't mean I still can't be king of the playground. Warren's gonna see soon enough he's being ridiculous acting the way he is."

"You can go back and sleep and I'll just call when-"

"Spencer," he says firmly. "Go on. Be a hero and catch a bad guy. I promise I'll be okay." He was smiling but the agent still had a hard time just leaving him alone.

"I'll fill you in when we're done," he promises before meeting up with the squad.

"Agent."

"Chief. So what's situation this time?" he asks, surveying the deceased female splayed out upon the grass. Colsen was right, the Copycat had marked his kill with petals filling her insides.

"Sir, I found this near the dump sight..." He turned at hearing this new voice. The owner was a man about his height and possibly two years younger with cropped black hair and thin rimmed glasses around his baby blue eyes. He was pale complected and lean but fit, and like everyone else he wore a police badge around his neck for clearance purposes. He was holding in his gloved hand a white rag still damp with some substance.

"What'd ya find?" The man held the rag within about a foot of the chief's face, just a safe enough distance.

"Chloroform sir, but from the time of death the examiner is giving me it would seem this was used about two hours prior. Probably to subdue her." He had a timid voice, similar to Reid in that manner. When Warren noticed his confused look however he stopped the male.

"Sorry, Doctor this is officer Michael Hunt, he's been a technical employee of the force for a while but we haven't really needed the extra staffing until now. Hunt this is Special Agent Spencer Reid from the Behavioral Analysis Unit down in Quantico." The officer gave a small smile and offered his unoccupied hand which Reid took kindly.

"It's a pleasure Agent. Just makes me feel a bit inadequate that we can't do this on our own," he says.

"It's uh, it's baffled us in the BAU too so it's not like you're not capable of solving it. Just means we need to pool together to figure this out.." he says encouragingly.

"Right, so Agent, what do you make of all this?" Warren presses.

"Right, well... If anything this shows the Copycat isn't like the Ripper but he definitely wants to be. We know the Ripper charms his victims away without causing a scene but it seems this unsub doesn't have those skills. That's why he has to drug an unsuspecting stranger. His work is incredibly sloppy compared to the Ripper's too, almost like he's not really trying to copy him really, more like worship him... I'd say he's not nearly as prolific as the Ripper..." The two seemed to ponder this as Hunt passed off the evidence to another one of the detectives. Reid was giving the body a once over himself, trying to get a feel for what this unsub wanted to truly accomplish. He looked at the poor woman's cut up face, pity filling him as he choked back nausea. He noticed something odd though, the corner of something white peaked from between her lips. "Excuse me you mind if I...?" He motions to one of the examiners to borrow some tongs. He gently grips the tip and pulls carefully so as to do as little damage as possible.

"Jesus..." Warren shudders. The folded paper was bigger than one would've thought and was slick with fluids, showing she had been alive when it was placed there. Spencer unfolded the paper and motioned for Hunt to hold one corner.

"It's a letter..." Finally something to go on. He then proceeded to read aloud.

'My dearest love,

I sincerely hope you like my gift, I fixed her up in a way I just knew you'd love. Only you understand my art, not like these pathetic insects that wish to end your glorious reign. You have yet to kill again since your message was sent, but I know that you are just biding your time until the perfect moment like you always do. You are indeed perfect. I can barely contain myself in even writing this to you in expression of my undying affection. I dream of our union, how we will make passionate love to one another when the time comes that we finally meet. Two gods among their subjects with the mercy of bloody warriors. Your wish is my command, my god and master. I await your guidance with open arms.

-Your soulmate'

"Shit!" Shit indeed... It was worse than he'd feared, the Copycat was definitely not like his 'master'. He was definitely a classic psycho. He held the Ripper on a pedestal high above man and revered him as something inhuman. He thought all of this was like making art? And even went so far as to voice sexual desire for his idol. "You sure this ain't some crazy bitch stalking her serial killer?"

"Absolutely positive. Not only is the physical evidence against it but these aren't the words of a longing woman. This is a vicious male who thinks he's found his equal or greater. He admires the Ripper for starting his killings and showing him his calling. He's not nearly as smart and collected as his idol. If we don't find him soon, it's only going to get worse.."

"What about the Ripper? What if he was already here before police arrived and knows what this guy wants? They could potentially come together as he said," Hunt voices scanning Reid's face for more.

"I don't think we have to worry about that, we'd already considered the possibility that the two were working together before I was called in and it's definitely not like the Ripper to dote on someone else or hinder his operations by having a second, less experienced party to look after. His underling is sloppy and is more likely to slip up than he is... Plus he doesn't share the same desire to become a pair because it would go against why he began killing..."

"Hmm..." The elder man was showing in age as he took all of this in, hanging on the agent's every word. "Your uh, blonde friend front the BAU... Penelope, sent us a list of possible suspects yesterday evening. I've had officers looking into each one but so far nothing, it's like we're chasing ghosts..." Boy did he know it... Both of them were too stressed to even notice the other officer heading back to the perimeter where some members of the squad were redirecting citizens.

* * *

He was falling asleep the way things were going and he needed to stay awake for when Spencer came back. "Ugh..." He shook his head violently, slapping his cheeks. After a few smacks he quirked a brow and thought for a moment in thinking he had heard a pattern to his own wake up method. He tried to replicate it on the dashboard, giving a grin when it began to sound like something. He flipped on some club mix acoustics and continued the thumps, whistling a tune to lead it and mix with the melody. "Alright... Now we're talking..." he mumbles, committing the beats and notes to his declarative memory. This was work shift gold. It wasn't until he noticed that nearly an hour passed that he stopped with his songwriting and made an evaluation of his surroundings. ( Song he was working on: 'Tortuga' by DoubleV &amp; Formal One )

"Hmm... Must be something interesting to poke with a stick over there..." He knew he probably sounded insensitive but let's face it, it was getting hotter as the season went on and that corpse wasn't getting any fresher, had to smell like shit over there especially in the midday heat. He actually had an intense curiosity to know what was going on and what they had found out. He held Spencer in high regards as well and had no doubts he had given them something to use based on what was present. He wouldn't make it known for obvious reasons but this case was going to make or break how he spent the rest of his days. He needed everything that was found out but he knew better than to make the mistake of going in as an escaped witness. The cops all around him were already glancing his way every now and then with wary looks, as if to show how suspicious he looked being the only one sitting nonchalantly in the parking lot. After a while he noticed that one of the detectives he'd seen with Warren earlier had wandered towards the perimeter, pushing his glasses up his nose with his pinky. He wondered, if this was one of the guys who knew everything that went through on the scene then it would be enough to satisfy his curiosity for the time being...

"Hey, excuse me! Sir?" he calls as softly as possible. At first the dark haired man appears not to hear him but soon he looks toward the car and approaches it with a questioning look. He flashes his thousand watt smile as he approaches, trying to appear charming and non threatening despite a lack of need to. "Hi there, my name is Edward Hopkins and you see I've been chauffeuring Agent Spencer Reid around while he's been in town and I actually helped examine the body of a female yesterday?" The blue eyed man visibly flushes, taking in his every word. The blonde could see the obvious admiration in the officer's gaze and would've been more flattered, since he wasn't bad looking himself, if he didn't already have his sights set on another. What was he saying? He never committed to anyone... It was too easy to get hurt...

"U-um, Officer Michael Hunt..." he mumured. Edward nodded respectfully.

"I hope I'm not overstepping any boundaries here by asking, but I was wondering if you might be able to tell me what's going on as of now?" He gestures to the scene.

"I don't think-"

"I would ask Agent Reid to let me in but since the Chief isn't too fond of me I didn't want to risk getting him in trouble. Help me out?" He was so sincere and so persuasive he could've told Michael the grass was red and he would've believed him. Not to mention the man's bedroom eyes were nothing if not alluring. He gave a hesitant glance back at the other officers before licking his lips nervously and nodding.

"Well um, the victim is a young woman with a butterfly tattoo above her collarbone... She was drugged before being captured. And um, the killer left a note for the Ripper in her mouth..."

"Oh? Know what it said per chance?" he inquires with feigned ignorance. The amateur trying to get in touch with his idol certainly would be something indeed, especially if that idol happened to find the rookie killer and used that to his advantage...

"Ummm... He left the body as a present, the police are nothing and the Ripper is a god among men... He wishes to um, m-make love..." He barely got out the last part without being too bashful about it. "He wants to be a pair... Kill together as lovers.."

"You phrase that rather well, not with as much malice as I would expect," he states cooly, watching his expression with a calculating gaze. "It doesn't sound like you're very worried about their joining." Michael looked down, not meeting his eyes.

"Maybe I'm just confident we'll find them.." He ended with connecting blue and green, making the blonde a bit uneasy for some odd reason but it gave him what he wanted.

"Thank you Officer-"

"Michael, please."

"Right. Thank you Michael. I appreciate the help..." This young man, he was like Spencer in a lot of ways... But the brunette agent was too innocent...

* * *

By the time Spencer had finished up and the squads were clearing off, it was around four thirty. Talk about a long day, even though it had been only four hours... The green choice of wardrobe had helped in the midday heat at least, the body, not so much. It was only getting warmer from this point on anyway what with summer being on the way. ( Lol summer, it's always so weird for me to type the season my name translates to. ) He needed to call Hotch, two bodies in two days with a new profile was something they needed in the system. He knew from his last conversation with Garcia though that the team was on another case and couldn't be directed away from it. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose frustratedly. He wasn't cut out for this, he was just a freaky genius with the potential of a psychotic break.

Whoa. Where did that come from? He actually stopped himself from surprise at his own thoughts. He hadn't delved into his greatest fear in a while thanks to the support of his team. Was his time away from them possibly getting to him? But even so, he never linked possible schizophrenia to a psychotic break... What was up with that?

A sound. Faint whistling in a particular tone that reminders him of a Victorian pirate tune. "What in the world...?" He followed the sound to the parking lot where he couldn't help but watch in awe at the blonde in the front seat of the black mustang with the electric green flames. He was whistling that tune while tapping his nails and palm on the dashboard in rhythm. He nodding his head in a way that suggested he was thinking while he occupied his time with music.

He crossed the distance between them with a small smile that was returned once emerald green eyes flicked his way on instinct. "Hey there Agent, working hard or hardly working?" he teases.

Spencer shakes his head, getting into the passenger side with a sigh. "Feels like a little bit of both."

The blonde gave a half grin and exhaled sharply in humor, propping himself on the steering wheel and taking in the brunette's overall appearance. Not so bright, a bit slouched, frustration pouring off of him in waves. "Hmm, you know what? The day's still young, I'm taking you out."

Spencer gasped in air and looked over at the driver. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Guys night out. I'm taking you out and turning that frown upside down, er whatever the hell the kids are saying these days heh," he says starting the car. "Ten bucks you feel better at the end of the night." He winked, sending Reid into a mental fit, but the kind that involved his mind going in the gutter...he didn't go there often.

"I'm not so sure I-" Before he could finish the sentence Edward lurched forward out of the parking lot at a dangerous speed. Without meaning to the older man let out a small shriek that came out as a squeal.

"Haha! That was fucking adorable!" Ed swerves around the corner as the agent frantically buckles in and grabs for anything in reach, internal predator ready to pounce on the cute older male.

"What the hell?! You realize you're driving with a federal agent!"

"Calm your tits Pretty Boy! Live a little would ya?" He was flooring it and weaving through traffic like it was nothing! How the hell hadn't he been pulled over? And why was he always Pretty Boy?! He knew Edward was just being himself, it was fun to him and if he would loosen up he knew Spencer would enjoy the rush too. "Come on I know you and I didn't have much of an adolescence but delinquency is kind of a right of passage for anyone!"

"It's also what leads to the majority of teens getting their first experience with law enforcement!" Edward screeched to a stop in front of small gravel road long enough to let a man cross, but sped back up once he was over. They were heading down a private road the agent was unaware of. He didn't recognize anything and he could barely keep up with their surroundings until suddenly, out of nowhere, Edward slowed and came to a gentle stop, not on a road but in grass at the end of the beaten path. "W-where are we?"

"Hm. Take a look..." The brunette released his vice grip on the car and licked his chapped lips, looking around and trying to get an idea of their location. It was just grass, a tree or two... A river. A bridge overlooking it far off in the distance. Brooklyn River. There was no one around, there wasn't a sound to be heard this far out.

"It's beautiful..."

"Yeah, most people don't believe places like this still exist in the city. But if you look hard enough, you can find beauty in anything. Even in the things everyone else finds repulsive. Whether it be a person with a rancid soul, something that at first glance appears ugly, or even something that is so simple it doesn't seem like it could be anything extraordinary or become more than it is. Give it a chance though, and it may surprise you in ways you never imagined. The same goes for you," he ended poetically.

"Huh?" he murmurs.

"You give yourself a hard time Spencer, I can see it. You work yourself so hard and even at your best you think you fall short. You feel like you're not worthy of this case and you're not extraordinary enough to catch two criminals that have eluded capture for three years. But the thing is, the police? Warren? All of them. They were lost without you. I can see it in the way they act towards you, they hold the highest respect for you. They may not completely understand you and know how much you pressure yourself, but they can tell you won't give up until you give them everything they need to catch these guys. You're like this place Spencer...but there's not another person out there like you. So for once, give yourself a little credit and enjoy the little things okay?"

He'd left Reid speechless. What was he to say to something so kind? Was that really what he did? Did his best and sold himself short? He remembered what he had told Hotch when he told him he had been chosen for this case. He didn't think he was capable, yet he had a profile within the first twenty four hours of being in New York. He thought this would all overwhelm him yet here he was still in one piece. He had begun to fear his genetics again and just before he could dwell too much on it this kind hearted musician was there with beautiful words to make it all seem like some silly fear that could be fixed with a smile. "Edward I-"

He felt a finger press against his lips. "Just try and have fun with me tonight. Please?" His minuscule smile was so softens his voice so gentle...

"I'll try..." he murmured against his touch. The younger man beamed at this and unbuckled, rolling down the windows and getting out.

"Come on." The brunette wasn't sure what he was planning but did as he asked, following him to the trunk where Edward revealed a cooler. "I uh, kind of stay prepared hehe," he says with a chuckle. He pulled it out followed by a big blanket and rounded the car with Reid in tow. Placing the fabric on the ground he gestured for him to sit. Reid felt himself blush at the sweet offer. Dear lord if his team could see him now... Riverside relaxation with this glorious specimen that now sat beside him, rummaging through the freezing contents in a cooler... "I get free samples from the club so I have variety," he says, showing that the container was filled with various flavor of wines.

"I take it wine is your alcohol of choice?"

"Duh. Who doesn't love fruit? I mean any kind will do but some are just too bleh in taste for me." Spencer had to smile at his childish response of fruit and bleh tastes.

"Don't you ever think you might be drinking just a little too much?"

"Not really. Wine's one of the more diluted beverages and I usually space it out enough I'm never really at a BAL ( Blood Alcohol Level ) of over .02 so it's not like I'm endangering anyone. When I do drink a bit more though I've found I don't really experience impaired judgement like most would. I act little stupid but I'm guilty of being a man so it's gonna happen. I'm usually in control of myself though. Pretty sure Nicky got me drunk on New Years though... If she wasn't lesbian I'd say she did it to fondle me in my sleep..." Spencer laughed at that, actually relaxing a bit and leaning back on Edward's blanket.

"This one time on my birthday my teammate Derek gave me a shot of vodka at this party he'd put together in my apartment and I kid you not my eidetic memory was impaired for almost the entire night. I'm lucky to even remember the incident at all," he muses. Edward was laughing pretty heartily himself at the idea of a drunken Reid asking what he did the night before.

"I can totally see you being the life of the party when wasted." He offers the cooler to Spencer. "Here, take your pick and we'll share." The agent shifted the bottles around before settling on blueberry based wine that looked a little on the expensive side. "Nice, you have worthy taste buds young Paddawan."

"So now you're my Jedi master?"

"Much to learn, you have."

"I am older than you ya know?"

"No way, you gotta be like twenty years young Smalls." Neither could remember the last time they had had so much fun. They were both laughing and getting on like life long friends and yet there was that extra something that made it more enjoyable. Each was a nerd in their own right but Edward had more of a connection with music and popular culture while Spencer had more of a mathematical superiority. Both talked on it more as the wine was poured and drank.

"So you played the piano with this autistic boy simply by using mathematical principles?"

"It's not that difficult actually you simply have to associate each individual key with its possible variables before acting them out."

"Man, I don't think I could ever think about music like that. When you say it like that it feels like it's more of a chore to play than it is an expression of passion. I mean why make music if there's no emotion in it or any to be inflicted?" The blonde had let Spencer have his first few drinks from the bottle and had taken it a few minutes later to sample it himself. At the moment neither protested against the exchange of saliva.

"I suppose that's its purpose really. To lull us or to invoke some sort of psychological reaction. Make us relate to it and feel our own emotions on a greater level. Of course it can also serve to excite is and release endorphins which is primarily the kind of songs you do in your line of work."

"Mm, excite in what way?" he purrs with a smirk.

The agent turns several shades of red once again, fueling the blonde's desire for him. He was so slick about it though Spencer couldn't tell if he was seriously flirting or just teasing.

"You'd be surprised though, I have been known to charm with a nice ballad," he recants with a wink, showing he was indeed trying to attempt seriousness. "John Fields' Nocturne No.2 is one of my favorites." His eyes soften for a moment though, his sexual desire and restraining tendencies fading away. "Actually, my favorite song is one sung by Julie London. Cry Me A River. I remember the first time I ever listened to it, I actually did cry. Like a little bitch really, hehe. It's beautiful though..." Spencer found himself being moved by the younger man's obvious passion and emotion, taking the bottle back and drinking a bit more as he laid back. Maybe today wasn't so bad after all. He ended up growing closer to Edward and at least for now everything seemed like it would turn out alright...and it was only six o'clock...

* * *

_Oh I'm such a bitch :D. Cliffhangers keep you interested though and it saves me extensive writing so yeah. Hey I'm lazy like that and I'm busy. Besides this should give you plenty to think on, what with another killer and some new chemistry between our boys ;). Reviews are greatly appreciated and they definitely make me squeal. Just ask anyone at my school lol. Until next time beautiful creatures!_


	8. On Hiatus

Story on Hiatus.

I'm sorry guys but I really hate Mary Sue's and Gary Stu's in fanfiction and after having a professional critique I've realized that Edward is too unrealistic and his flaws don't counter his perks in balance. I'm sorry but I'll be revising this story before adding onto it at all. I hope you understand and I do apologize.

-Crazy


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